


Money Can't Buy the Richest Diamond

by Vit_Nebula



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Animal Instincts, Animalistic Papyrus, Animalistic Sans (Undertale), Awkward Dates, Bara Sans (Undertale), Beautful Sunrise, Birdtale, Cat & Mouse, Change is not welcomed then welcomed, Character Death, Choice and No Choice, Cigars, Crime, Decided to write an UnderTale fic, Domestication, Druids, F/F, F/M, First Dates, Growling, Guns, Heats, Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Less Than 12.5 Percent Human, M/M, Mages, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), Money Ain't Everythin', Monstahs are way taller than hoomanz, Multi, Mutt is Rus, My First Fanfic, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Overprotective Sans (Undertale), Overprotective Skells, Pets, Pets are Weird, Possessive Behavior, Prey - Freeform, Professional Pats, Projection, Protective Papyrus (Undertale), Reader Can Fight Back, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader can say no, Reader has a color changing soul, Reader is a demonhuman hyrbrid, Reader is an ex-soldier, Reader is old, Reader is slightly punny, Reader is witty, Reader-Insert, Reverse Harem, Rus is a trouble maker, Shamans, Shapeshifting, Skellies Think Reader is Male for a bit, Slow Burn, Someone save Arny, Stalking, That moment when you still have more tags to add, There are more than Mages here, Too Many OCs, Violence, Warlocks, Why are tags so difficult, Wings, beautiful sunsets, flight, reader is female, reader is secretly a badass, smoke, snatching, territorial, wooh?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-13 19:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 88,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vit_Nebula/pseuds/Vit_Nebula
Summary: The city was mostly quiet; less crime that needed screaming sirens speeding down the street. You lived in the poorer parts working two laborious jobs, but you were happy to live it. The sun still rose and time went on by with a peaceful hitch. That is… until a group of Boss Monsters moved into the richer parts of the city. Wherever a Boss Monster makes roots, more monsters are sure to follow alongside newer buildings and business. However, though this income of wealth seems to follow Boss Monsters, so does crime.As the city began to change into a more “Monster-Friendly” domain, you catch the eye of the powerful group. Can you steer clear from their possessive whims? You’re not a person who sees wealth in money and jewelry. Love can’t be bought, but that doesn’t seem to deter the skeleton monsters. There are other ways to getting you to concede. Sooner or later you will have no choice but accept their offer to be theirs.Above all that, how long until the skeletons in your closet pull your secrets out?





	1. Checking In

**Author's Note:**

> So... First fic on AO3. Tsk... NEAT...  
Uhm, hello. Uh... h-how are you guys doing-? Should I apologize beforehand in case the story sucks, or do I wait for complaints.  
Eh, let's do it now. Warning: This Story MAY Suck. And I the author apologize for it.  
But if you like it; cool beans, bruh.  
(Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change

Fuzzy silhouettes danced across your vision without faces or voices. You stumbled passed them toward a dimly lit door. With all your strength, you pushed the doors open to reveal a warm room. White sheets covered every table with an assortment of flowers and a small lit candle. Lights from above twinkled like stars in an assortment of pinks, yellows, and orange as the tables bordered on a shining dancefloor. You timidly took a step onto the newly waxed floor; eyes tracing every corner of the room for movement. You took a breath to call out to anyone that might be there but…

No sound, no voice, escaped you.

You looked back toward the heavy door you entered to see the shadowed phantoms staring at you. They globbed into one another like overcooked molasses, each face turning into a ghostly scowl or fear. They stayed on their side of the door as if some invisible presence kept them there. You turned back to your warm room to see you were no longer alone. The lights above changed to a dim orange as the bright figures stood before you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see them more clearly as you tried in vain to count how many there were. Your eyes strained as they got closer, one holding out a hand toward you. Yells and screams sounded from the doorway. You turned back to see them clawing at the force keeping them caged, their faces distorted into one of fear. They continued their groaned scream as they melted into one another, tapping on the invisible force. You looked over your shoulder back at the bright figures, one still with its hand held out toward you. You turned to give them your full attention.

“Who are you?” you voice finally escaped your lips.

The figure with his hand out tilted its head at you and held out its hand with a slight sense desperation. You took one step back from it and froze as the warm room became cold and shadowed. The once angelic looking figures dimmed as they stared at you, no longer with a welcoming aura. Your neck felt cold as its hairs shot up at attention.

A chorus of groans and shrieks sounded from the door way. Your ears finally began to understand their pleas and shrieks.

**RUN!**

You took a few more steps back, lungs working at full capacity. The ground shook as a growl of displeasure emanated from the now demonic figures. They each took a few steps to follow you; each step making their statures tower over your own.

With only a few feet in between you, that same figure held up its hand for you to take; its stance threatening, clearly stating that this was your last chance to accept. The goop silhouettes cried out again for you to run, go back the way you came.

**…To them. **

You were at odds with yourself as fear stiffened your body, adrenaline ready to pump your body with flight tendencies to get out of this situation. The screams and collective growls coming in all directions. You collapsed on your knees from the overwhelming scene before you. Time seemed to freeze for you to make a decision. You looked up to see the hand being offered to you once again. Your heartbeat slowed in defeated resignation.

“It’s no use.” Your lips moved without your consent, “I wouldn’t have gotten away, would I…?”

The figures answered with a relaxed purr. You looked at the hand with a sullen sigh. There was no exit for you, no escape. Somehow you just knew you were playing their game and the odds of you winning were quite minuscule to theirs. Though your mind disagreed and tried to persuade you to not give in to their terms, it was too late. They had already beguiled you into submission. You sighed in defeat as you reached for its hand, regardless of the screams that told you otherwise-

** _BEEP! BEEP! BEEEP!_ **

Your arm crashed on top of the snooze button to shut the devil’s invention up. As much as you loved telling time, having an annoying screech sound in your ear to wake up didn’t do any favors. You grumbled as your hand felt around the clock for the button to reset the alarm for the next day. You pressed down with a sense of completion and turned over to go back to sleep, silently promising yourself you’d look up who invented the alarm clock so you can salt the ground where he or she was buried out of spite.

You never acted on that promise. Hell, you never even put in the effort of researching the inventor; regardless of how much scorn you held toward your blue block that told time.

Your cellphone rang from beside the digital clock. You growled, arm blindly flailing behind you to pick up the cursed object. It was your day off, dammit! The thin block was finally found and brought into your bed. You squinted at the bright screen, trying to read the Caller ID:

**Rose.**

You sighed, swiping the answer icon to the side.

“Y’ello.” You rasped, “Marge’s Cleaning Service. How may I assist you on this-” you looked at the time on your phone, “early morning?”

“Very funny.” An old voice answered, “Today’s your day off, isn’t it?”

“Noo, noo.” You said as you sat up in bed, “What would give you that idea?”

“The sound of laziness and disappointment.” She answered with small delight.

You snorted, “Got me there.” A yawn escaped your lips as you stretched.

Satisfied and a little more awake you pulled your duvet to side, shivering at the cold morning air that blew through your bedroom window.

“Now… what can I do for ya, Rosie?”

It was 5:40_ in the goddamn_ morning. This better have been important.

**-|-**

You exited the bus and looked down the sidewalk. The street lights were finally turning off due to the sun coming up. It was ten minutes passed 7. You zipped up your (F/c) hoodie and shuffled off in direction of your close friend, Robin’s, place. She resided in a small gated community. You smirked at the memory of her saving up for five years straight just for the down payment on the mortgage. She was a performer, a singer; working five gigs a night just to stay afloat in her small tower of a home.

You jumped the fence of the community, dodging the sights of the gate’s cameras, and began the mile-long walk to Robin’s place. Middle class people lived here. And though you were borderline in the category, you were still looked down on because of the way you dressed, lived, worked, how you talked… The list went on and on. It’s funny that still in today’s society, a woman is seen as a pariah simply because she doesn’t follow the old norm of how women should act and dress.

You sighed as you stuffed your hands into your pockets. It didn’t feel like Fall at all, but an elongated Winter. The fog emanating from your sigh spoke truths to this. There’d probably be a blizzard in October at this rate. After all, Surface County was known for its sporadic weather.

Your city used to be part of the border between Pearmound and Fletcher County. However, when monsters surfaced, in order to keep their huge population in one place, the human government allowed for them to reside in Ebott, Pearmound, and Fletcher counties respectively, renaming the whole as Surface County. It’s funny, since the monsters came up from Mount Ebott, everything’s changed; the weather, laws, acceptance of magic. Since the laws passed for them to travel beyond the borders of the county, many left to different states and countries, quickly changing the world into a mostly accepting society.

You laughed when you remembered Robin dragging you through the grocery store when there was news of monster food coming to the shelves. She wanted to try everything and compare it with normal food. It was weeks later when there was news about monster food not being a viable source of nutrients for humans. Just enough to heal wounds, but not enough to survive on. You did your best to hold in your laugh as Robin sulked, when only days before she told you toilets would be obsolete because of monster food. She ended up raining down a slap storm on your arm when you could no longer contain your laughter.

You finally approached Robin’s building, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and walked down the breezeway of hall to her door. You gave the pine colored door a gentle knock and waited. Actual minutes passed by until the door was flung open by a young, dark haired woman. She looked terrible. Despite her hair looking like an actual bird’s nest and dark bags under her eyes, her hazel-blue eyes still twinkled like no tomorrow. She grabbed onto your hoodie’s sleeve and pulled you into her apartment, slamming the door shut. You watched as she shakily grasped the door frame and slowly turned to look at you from her shoulder.

“Let me guess.” She breathed, “Grams sent you.”

You nodded at first, eyes straying from her crazed appearance to the TV room being littered with ribbons and… tattered… clothing?

_Breathe._

You smirked at her, trying to hide your worry as your thoughts raged through the many scenarios that could have played out.

“Yeah… said you hadn’t called in weeks.” You gingerly took off your hoodie and threw it onto the couch, revealing your (R/c) T-shirt that read:  
**I Excel at PowerPoint, Go Spread the Word.**

“Guess her sixth sense was right.” You eyed her from head to toe with a raised eyebrow, giving her an accented, “_You look gorgeous_.”

She scoffed dismissively, “I’ve been busy. I’ll call her tonight.”

“Next time schedule your damn phone calls. Don’t know ‘bout you, but I don’t like being called before the sun’s even come up on my days off.”

She smiled at your complaint, “Today’s your day off, eh?”

_Oh no._

You stiffened at her bubbly tone. He eyes narrowed sinisterly as she approached your statuesque state. Her height barely reached your chest, but that meant nothing toward her strength. She grabbed a fistful of your shirt and dragged you toward her room. She practically kicked the door open and led you over to the bed, pushing you onto the cushy duvet.

“Now,” she said, leaning over your torso, “I need your exotic touch.”

You sighed, lying down on the duvet, “Seriously, Robin.” You whined, “We did this last month.”

“That was _last_ month and this is _this_ month.” She pouted, lying on your chest, “Please. I really need this.”

You didn’t have to sit up to see she was giving you her glittering puppy eyes. A growled sigh of defeat escaped you.

“Fine. FINE! I’ll do it.”

She wriggled up to your neck and hugged you with a bubbly laugh, “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, Let’s just get it over with.” You grumbled.

She began sliding back to get up when you collapsed your arm over her like a safety harness. She tried to back out again, only to be stuck in the half hug.

“(Y/N),” if she were an actual bird, her talons would be stabbing into you by now, “what are you doing?”

“Nothin’,” you answered a sigh, “jus’ getting comfy.”

“Why?” she practically whispered. A fuse had been lit, “You promised-”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do it later.” You turned your head with a comfortable sigh, “Someone’s grandmother woke me up early this morning.”

She tried backing out again and failed.

“I need at least four more hours.”

She clicked her teeth and called you a child under breath as she seemingly accepted to her fate. You would let her go as soon as she fell asleep. You’ve never seen her in this state before. Just a few hours couldn’t hurt her, especially since she’s asking for your _help_. You felt her weight on top of you with each breath you took and began closing your eyes. She nuzzled onto your stomach and-

“Ow, **OW!**” you sat up, arm sliding off her, “What’s with the teeth?”

She stood up off of you, arms using your legs as safety bars, with a “_Hmph_” and sassily swayed her hips as she flipped her messy hair behind her and walked to the other side of the room.

You scoffed at her, “Well then. T’s not like I wanted your water balloon tits on me anyway.”

She turned to look at you with a squinted glare, mouth twitching to hold back a smile, “Compared to your melons, I can see why.”

“Ah, I see now,” you feigned hurt, “this was all because of your jealousy over my endowment.” You dramatically lied back on the duvet like a damsel; arm draped over your head, “The cost of friendship; over natural selection.”

She threw a sock at you with a laugh, “As _IF_!”

You sat up with a smirk, flicking her sock off your knee.

“Besides,” she smirked, “what’s the point of having them if you hide ‘em from the world?”

You smiled at that. You kept your chest tied down at most hours of the day until you got home. It was something you didn’t care about. Not many people these days knew or could tell your gender. But those who did would do everything in their power to expel/tarnish you and your reputation from most of the populous. Those who were high up in the power chain of command would sway others to stay away. You were seen as a freak simply because you chose physical labor as your bread and butter, instead of the desk or waitress jobs that were filled to the brim with faces covered in makeup with fake million-dollar smiles. You weren’t a fan, it wasn’t you. You accepted their choice of life and employment. Why couldn’t they accept yours?

You worked at an old metal works factory that also had a side business in car repair. The owner took a shining to you when you met many years ago, teaching you his trade in the car repair branch and giving you a place to work from prying eyes. You worked to your heart’s content on the classic cars that would come in and have them leaving as if they were fresh out the factory. You may have not been living a life full of expensive luxury, but it’s been a comfortable one. You had a roof over head, friends that have become your family, and a city that wasn’t filled to the brim with chaotic bullshit like the bigger ones had.

“What can I say, they get in the way.” You shrugged.

She rolled her eyes at you, turned to her vanity, sat down on the cherry-wood bench, and grabbed a brush. It never took long for Robin to get herself _dolled up_. She was a singer after all. Most times she only had fifteen minutes from when her gig started to get dressed and get on stage, regardless of how the weather affected her during her walk from the bus stop.

Though her masked appearance was similar to the many women who used their looks to get by, you never judged her for it. Unlike the women of this town, Robin actually had a voice and had no qualms of making sure people heard it. She always held her head high, did what she felt was the right way to go about life, and went against the obstinate crowds; saving up for her apartment, regardless of being unmarried.

She turned to you with light make up alongside cover-up for her sleep deprived eyes and hair pinned up into a bun with a tiki pin stuck in it that her brother sent from Hawaii. Even with her green tank top and Joe Boxer shorts, she still looked like she was going somewhere.

She turned to a tarp covering a table with two tall figures and tore it off revealing two mannequins and a sewing table. One mannequin was bare, but the other was covered in a mint-green, knee length, chiffon dress that crisscrossed along the chest to form straps that were made to hug the arms from the side. The dress flanneled as if it had been wind-blown it into its desired state.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that this dress looked beautiful since Robin made all of her clothes. She had such a professional touch that many thought she had a sugar daddy buying her expensive brands. Instead, they were all her design. You tried to talk her into saving up for college to get a design degree, but she’d always dismiss it with a laugh stating that money toward college had better uses, like keeping her alive. Wasn't that the truth. In this city, your bread and butter _pays_ for actual bread and butter. This city had always been a half-way point for most and will probably never change.

“So,” she shrugged with anticipation, “what do you think?”

“Uhm,” you continued to stare at the dress, “what’s the occasion?”

She circled around the mannequin, arms woven over its headless shoulders, hiding her excited smile.

“Remember that show you missed last week?” she asked.

“Thursday night one?”

She nodded.

“Had a full house and everything.” She pouted your way.

You were busy that night, having to help your boss finish a detail job on a classic car. You both didn’t leave ‘til the sun came up. Guilt crept up your back. You didn’t necessarily promise to be there, but you’d never missed any of her shows. For the first time in a while, the place had been booked instead of less than half full. She probably got extra pay because of it. How else could she have bought the materials to make this dress?

“Turns out, that night was when a bunch of monsters moved into the city...” She played with the thread of the dress a bit.

That… was new. How did you not hear about this? Sure, Robin was in many social circles, but you would’ve heard something at garage. This should’ve been big news for the city.

Even though your city resided in Surface County, there were barely any monsters living here. The small amount that did always kept to themselves and never talked to anyone but their own species. Most of the populous was fine with this. As long as they steered clear and kept their noses clean, there wouldn’t be any problems. Other than that, any monsters who were in the city were either passing through or there visiting family.

“A bunch of _Boss_ monsters.” She clarified, looking up to gauge your reaction.

Your jaw dropped as your eyebrows rose. Boss monsters? Plural?

Everyone knew that regular monsters followed boss monsters, viewing them as a sign of protection and leaders to follow. When one took roots in a city, many monsters flocked in by a few hundred.

“Well, fuck.” You breathed, shaking your head.

Your city needed this; you knew that. Monsters had a cleaner source of energy and many popular stores took root wherever they settled. And though it would be cool to see new stores and buildings built, you didn’t want the chaos that came with it. Wherever more monsters roamed, more crime followed. You knew it was just rumoring that boss monsters ruled over the cities they settled in like mobsters, organizing and controlling anything that came and left their territory, as it could never been proven; but seen as a specist way to give monsters a bad name. But even so... there's truth even in lies.

“This isn’t how I, uh… pictured our city getting livelier. C’est la vie.” The words left your mouth with a slight somber tone. You then looked at her confused, “Wait… WAIT, wait-wait-wait… **Wait**.” You folded your hands on your lap and got your thoughts together, “You made… a dress… because monsters… have come to town?”

Your expression seemed to make her laugh, “Well, you could summarize it as that.”

She moved the mannequin into the center of the room, “Okay, time to make due on that promise.”

You grumbled, collapsing back on the bed.

“Now.” She ordered.

You stood up like a kid seconds away from enacting a tantrum.

“Alright, what do I have to do?”

She took out a roll of baby green material. Silver melded with the green threading, giving off a sparkled look.

“I need you to hold this up while I make the measurements and start cutting, like last time.” She explained.

“Last time, both mannequins were in use. Why do I have to it this time?” you gave her an annoyed look.

“_Because_,” she began rolling out the material, “The mannequins aren’t sturdy. Whenever I make cuts, the back always turns out longer than the front, or the sides are too long that they go passed my hips.”

“Figured that was just part of your design.” You shrugged.

“I_ _make it__ work.” She said, eyeing you.

_Did the room just get cold?_

You held up your hand in defense, “Fair point.”

With a flick of your hands two new ones made out of translucent energy appeared in the air mimicking your movements. Robin folded the material and held it up to them. You mimed them to take hold and stood there unmoving. This was starting to become the norm. Sure, she kept your magic secret, but being someone’s hanger wasn’t ideal either.

“I spoke with them, you know.” She broke the silence, “The boss monsters.”

You watched as she measured and threaded the material together before cutting it.

“They just moved into town last week and wanted to throw a party at their place to help settle themselves into the city.” She snipped a thread, “You know the neighborhood off of Stephington? They just built a new mansion on top of one of the hills _just_ for them; monster sized and everything.”

“So, when’s the party?”

She looked over her work at you, “Next month.”

“And…?” Not able to gesture your meaning, you tilted your head to the side.

“_And_, I was invited to perform.” She got up to retrieve her glasses then sat down, looking over the length of what appeared to be a shawl. You watched as she made marks around the edges of the top and began cutting out a shape.

“Well, that’s great!” It really was. You hoped she would be getting paid a large sum of money for that gig. It could make a huge difference.

“Plus,” she continued, her giddy tone back, “one of them is a designer.”

Ah, that explains it. She’s pulling out all the stops for this one.

_Gotta dress to impress after all_, you remembered the older women practically chant as they flaunted their wealth around everyone. Their mindset defined showing off your goods and having someone spend their expensive dime on you was the life to live.

Just as you were about to tell her to be careful and keep her frame of mind, you heard the front door silently shut. You ear twitched as you looked to see where Robin was in her work. What now hung in those energized hands looked like a fancy, sparkled, green curtain.

“Scissors erect.” Code for someone was coming.

She paused in her final cut and put the scissors down. A second before the door flew open, the hands dissipated into the air, dropping the shawl on her head. She quickly scrambled up to put it on top of the bare mannequin, failing miserably to make it look like she meant every movement.

Standing in her doorway was none other than her neighbor. Brown eyes, masked behind dirty blond curls, scanned the room until they found Robin's hazel-blues staring her down. Her stout stature did no favors for the thick burgundy sweater that flanneled like a short dress over jean shorts. What was her name again? Barbie? Barbara? Bobini?

“Basia,” Robin practically hissed after she finished fitting the shawl to her liking. If she had fire-magic, the poor girl would have been ash in seconds, “What are you doing here?”

Ever heard of nosy and loud neighbors? Well, Basia was just loud. Loud-moocher incarnate, even. Robin gave her a key when a handyman had to come fix her heater while she was out working a gig. Since then, Basia never gave it back and strives to barge in whenever she wanted to either _talk_ to Robin (over a meal) or ask to borrow ingredients (food). You swear she has the nose of a bloodhound.

Once, when you brought over some homemade dishes, not three minutes after you arrived, did she barge in and almost rip the food from your hands. You had never wanted to fight for an enchilada casserole in your entire life than at that moment. Only Robin was the peacekeeper at that point, promising to share (not give) some of it with her. Came over the next day and the casserole dish was gone from the fridge.

Robin says she doesn’t have the heart (nor want to spend the money on changing the locks) to turn her away. But, stars, she could’ve at _least_ set _some_ boundaries. So, you advised her to hide her good shit while she was out, so Miss Leech wouldn’t absorb anything else she had while she was out, and put a one-way top lock on her door to keep it secure from any unwanted visits when she was home. She bitterly agreed.

_Of all the times she forgot to use the top lock…_

“Just wanted to see of you wanted to go out for breakfast.” She answered.

It was obvious she meant she wanted to eat out and fork the bill on Robin. You narrowed your eyes at her. At least Robin wasn’t a push over to that extent. She always seemed to help Basia out of pity. She was a single working woman trying to make ends meet in this economy just like her. But she’s in over her head, paying a mortgage when she barely has enough money to make proper meals. So, Robin allowed some of her _special_ antics to continue... for a time. Even that kindness can only stretch so far. Once Basia left her with a bill for a meal, she never agreed to go out with her again.

“Sorry,” Robin apologized with that fake bright smile she always wore when performing, “(Y/N) already took me out to eat an hour ago.” You smiled warmly with a hint of venom toward Basia’s way and waved. She stood still in the doorway for a moment, eyeing Robin’s attire. But though Robin had never left her apartment, she did have the look of someone who just came home and changed. She slowly nodded with a small okay, the quietest you’ve heard her, and turned to leave the apartment, flip-flops smacking at her heels. You got up to follow her out the door. Though she side eyed the kitchen, she did leave. As soon as the door clicked shut, you quietly turned the top lock.

“See?” you gestured toward the lock, “_This_ is why it's here.”

She rolled her eye as she approached the entryway from the TV room, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“I don’t get why you put up with her. If you didn’t have this lock, she’d be squatting on your couch gulping down your vodka.” You listed with your fingers.

She shook her head, “You know I can’t ignore her indefinitely. What if she needs help and it’s an emergency, huh? What then?”

You clicked your tongue as she stood in front of you, trying to keep eye contact. You looked down at her with a teasing smirk. Perfect time for a subject change.

“So… breakfast, eh?” you lifted your eyebrows manically, “Honestly, I think it is you who should be paying for it, if I’d be so bold to say.”

“What?” she looked at you trying not laugh at your expression.

“I mean it’s only fair… Or else,” you bent down to whisper in her ear, “you could call this indentured servitude.”

“Well,” she nodded then flashed you with that sinister look, “Indentured servants were paying off a debt.”

“Then it’s slavery since I have no debt and have yet to see a thank you for my assistance.” You rebutted.

She wrapped her arms around your waist and squeezed as she looked up at you with innocent hazel-blue eyes and said with her most cutesy voice, “Thank you for helping me, (Y/N).”

“Too late.” You deadpanned.

“Fine, I’ll buy you Denny’s.”

You squealed in response, twirling with her arms still tight around you.

“Don’t forget, extra hash browns,” you reminded.

“Got it.”

“And eggs; sunny side up.” You continued.

“I know.” She answered.

“All bacon.” You said sternly.

“Yup.” She started making her way passed the TV room toward the hallway.

“With two pancakes.”

“For stars sake, (Y/N) … and you call Basia a leech.”

You rolled your eyes, “No, I call her a bloodhound-_leech_. There’s a difference.” She answered with monotone affirmation. “Besides, I’m charging for pain and suffering.”

“_Puh_-lease.” She stopped turning to you in disbelief.

“Aghast,” you threw yourself onto the couch with dramatic flair, “for it was at 5:40 in the morning when my dear friend’s grandmother called me up, telling me of her plight.” You drew your hand over your forehead, “Her dear granddaughter had not checked in with her for some time. She had no idea if she was dead or alive and begged me to come check to see if her fears had come to fruition.”

“Alright, I get it.”

You jumped up with a pleased aura while Robin made her way back to her room mumbling about you being a pig.

“If I define a pig,” you voiced as if you were an actor, “then so I shall be.”

You ran after Robin, picking her up with a snort and squeal, and bringing her to her room to finish her design. She laughed at your terrible interpretation of a pig.

“Such a dork.” She shook her head, pulling the second mannequin by the first.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” You answered with a shrug as you awaited her next instruction.

**____**

It was a bit before seven in the AM. A monster walked along the crowds of the morning workers and people getting off the graveyard shift. Some of the humans dragging passed him, looked as bad as he felt. He kept on to his silent quest toward the liquor store. It was amazing this city hadn’t been touched by monster culture, media, or construction. All stores and restaurants were too small for his over eight-foot stature. Having to side step through a doorway wasn’t at the top of his most embarrassing feats, but still in the top ten. He ducked down as he entered the store and approached the cashier whom immediately woke up from his tired/bored gaze and looked up all the way at him. The human tried his best to be professional, but when the monster’s small red eye lights focused on him, he practically turned into a turtle; his head retreating further between his shoulders.

The monster asked if he sold EF-Cigars. The human nodded, stuttering as he pointed them out. His permanent, shark-like smile fell a little as he eyed the largely wrapped cigar in the human’s hands. He would have found it hilarious that the cigar was as thick as the human’s arm and even longer in length, like a long pipe covering kids used to play-fight as swords.

The only problem was that he was over due to a smoke and the human stuff was in simpler terms, disgusting. He’d begun to get desperate, being stuck in the medium sized city as everything got settled, until one of the few monsters that lived there told him about the magic cigars one of the human liquor stores sold. Now, here he is, disappointed to see it’s the cheap stuff. Of course, monsters would be able to sell humans the low-end side of products in a place like this.

With a resigned sigh he asked for all of them, everything the human had in stock. The human replied timidly that they only get six boxes every few months.

Only… six boxes? With four cigars each?

The monster held in his response. As soon as his family got settled, they’d get to changing some things around here. He swiped his card and waited as the now shaking human scrambled about for the largest bag he could find and handed it to him. He kept himself from grumbling about the cheap-ass product, side stepped out of the store, and began making his way home.

He’d find a nice secluded place and shortcut home to drown himself in cheap cigars. At this point, he couldn’t be picky. While the others were busy cleaning up loose ends in their previous neighborhood, he had to keep watch in the city and explore their new piece of real estate. He held back a yawn as he continued down the long sidewalk. The crowd of tired humans seemed to die down to only a few stragglers hurrying off to home, the bar, or work-

He suddenly froze. A feeling for only a moment. A second where his soul felt light and fluttered. Warmth encased him like a loving hug. The feeling ended quickly with an electric shock to his soul and faded away.

_what the hell was that?_

He came back to his senses and looked around. All he saw were the few humans weaving passed with cars speeding by the sidewalk without a care. Without thinking he vanished, ignoring a couple of surprised shrieks from a few humans that had been walking past at the time, and reappeared on one of the roofs overlooking the street. His eye lights, now medium sized red orbs, frantically scanned over the passing cars and buses as well as any human or monster within the vicinity. Nothing. The feeling was gone.

** _CRRUNNCH!_ **

He looked down to see he was gripping the side of an AC unit, now bent like a crumpled can.

_that feeling…_

He clenched his red, button down shirt; sleeves already rolled up to his elbow, signifying the end of his day and clashing with the sunrise. His arm numbly dropped down to his side as he gave up his search for- He didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for. He exhaled through his nasal cavity as his tall stature slouched into a relaxed state.

He frowned at the city before him. Though it looked quite beautiful in places the sun’s early rays touched, the age of the buildings became more apparent. The youngest of the buildings looked at least over thirty years old. And the older ones… it’s a miracle they were still standing. The poorer parts made the ghetto in Ebott look like four-star hotels. It’ll be quite an expensive hole in his family’s wallet to fix this place up. Not like it wasn’t expected.

He questioned why his family chose this city. Sure, it was off radar of most families and had been untouched by monster culture and technology, but it was smaller than most of the cities within Surface County. He himself felt there was something interesting in this town, but nothing noteworthy. Nice place for a house; nothing valuable.

His cousins thought otherwise. Said it was all part of the plan. And once they took over, everything will be easier to figure out.

_this place better be worth it_, his thoughts growled as he gave the street one last fleeting look and vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... first chapter (kind of a prologue) and it's 11 pages. So Proud!  
Anywhooo~ More things to come in the next chap. How will you fare, I wonder?  
Mua-ha! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!  
Sorry, there's been Halloween Decorations literally everywhere since August. Brainwashed into the Halloween Spirit  
Ahuhu~  
Have an awesome morning/day/night/evening Everybody!  
Also, I made a Tumblr.... Neat: https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com/


	2. It Began in a City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin making plans for a trip. However, after a long day at work, you get dragged along by Robin to meet a designer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self, don't post two chapters within the same week. This chapter is _15 pages_ long. I see why authors post every/every other week.  
Phew.  
Hope you guys enjoy this chap. It went through _ quite _ a few rewrites. You know that feeling where you just want to get to writing a specific scene, but you can't because you have to write a bridge of scenes leading up to it?  
Friggin' hate it.  
(Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change  
_*_*_ - Flashback

The city’s streets silently breathed in the morning air. The temperature seemed to drop another eight degrees in the passing night; a sign of the sun’s retired heat for the upcoming months. Papered trash blew from dumpsters in the side allies, fluttering around your feet as you headed for work. The garage was less than thirty blocks from your apartment, lying on the border between the ghetto and colored-glass society.

You chose the poorer part of town not just because of the cheaper rent, but because you knew what to expect. Nosy neighbors were usually ousted from buildings. Those who didn’t want trouble kept their nose clean and ear half deafened. Your business was _your_ business; a silent norm amongst your economic ranks, as no one knew the acts anyone did and wouldn’t pry if they wished to keep anything valuable. Life; a precious commodity, not worth its loss over petty rumors.

Caution was a must and you respected that wholeheartedly.

You needed secrecy in your life. It was a born-given lifestyle that you had to upkeep. Compared to the _greener pastures_ that middle class society, and above, lived in, the ghetto was the only place you could truly breathe.

Don’t get it wrong, the stereotypes surrounding ghettos still existed where you lived. Hell, you could practically hear some tweeker buy acid off a dealer or an overgrown family arguing their lungs out from your bedroom window. It ain’t perfect, but it’s worth the lack of judgmental stares and social silence.

Your steps quickened as you crossed the street, dodging desperate cars that ran red lights. There’s always that one asshole that honks at you when walking during the crosswalk light. Entitled drivers were the worst. But this morning’s rush hour catastrophes didn’t seem to bother you.

To be honest, you were running on autopilot from point A to B. Thoughts mingled in your brain. The pressure was real and you had to start making plans. Your head retreated passed the collar of your hoodie like a turtle as your clenched fists dug further into its pockets; thoughts intertwining with the forgotten stress you had locked up for the past few weeks.

What the hell were you going to do? You hadn’t planned for this one to come up so soon; out of sight, out of mind.

But… If you’d done _that_ with _her_, then you were on your last legs and had to…

“Shit.” You breathed as you remember yesterday.

_*_*_

Robin did well on her word and treated you to Denny’s. Your order was laid out for the both of you. Honestly, all you wanted was the hash browns and a pancake. The rest was for Robin. Whenever she got involved with a project she defined as _big_, she tended to forget some key things, like food… and sleep. This was her worst case yet of…

What do you even call this? _Hobbiholism_?

You had your usual banter; a tease countered by a jokeful threat and usual hilarity. Close to the end of the meal, you presented her with a black to-go box with four, pumpkin-spiced pancakes. Something, you secretly planned with your server as you had slipped a ten to him with a curt nod while you were seated. Damn, it was good to be a regular at your local Denny’s.

You joked about the token of gratitude that led to her sending you that sinister smile, stating a plain an offer of “Netflix and Chill”. You sputtered, half spitting your Orange-Julius, with a wide-eyed look that left her howling in laughter. Stars, you coughed for what felt like days as her red face gasped for air.

Somehow you ended up on the subject about pets. You joked about her getting a cat, which she quickly responded by tousling your hair as you leaned against her shoulder:

_“Who needs a cat when I’ve got you purring up a storm.”_

That would have been the perfect time to shatter glass.

You sat up, silent and facing away from her for the rest of the meal. At first, she thought you were just joking, playing off a standoffish cat. But when you didn’t react to her small jabs, she asked if you were all right. You gave her a half-smile and excused your actions as wandering thoughts.

_*_*_

You were _actually_ purring… in a public place- What else had you been doing in public that you weren’t aware of?

A tug by the hood of your hoodie pulled you backwards and out of your worrying thoughts. You stumbled back, looking over your shoulder to see your boss, Gavin, leading you back toward the garage.

When had you passed it?

He peeked over his shoulder at your nervous form as you tried getting your apologies together and became a stuttering mess.

“Save it.” His graveled voice silenced you, “You’re still on time.”

His silver hair, pulled back into a sickled shaped ponytail, swiveled behind him as his head turned back to look onward.

Regardless of him being in his late fifties, the man was still in shape, veins popping from his still chiseled arms. Not what you’d expect from a factory owner/car repairman. Even with his youthful _extremities_, he still wore clothes that screamed_ old man_ to anyone who met him. His outfit always included the same four articles of clothing (in differing colors): A men’s tank top tucked into straight legged jeans with an old brown belt and rusted buckle, topped off with an abomination of a plaid button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up and buttons undone. What was it that Rose called him when she last came out here? A defined rugged man? You didn’t see how burnt oranges and browned reds in plaid brought on that description, but to each their own, right?

Robin would always bug you about your plaid shirts, begging you to burn yours in place of more _civilized_ patterns. Oh, the price of having a designer friend. You refused of course and found her complaints biased as she never ranted to Gavin. She answered, with a look of contempt, that it was too late for him. Gavin found it hilarious, stating stubborn middle-aged men like him were like boulders, they couldn’t change their colors like mountains.

Gavin chuckled as he dragged you passed the factory gates and toward the office building, “Saw you walking back and forth with a troubled look on your face. Decided you needed a hand before the grocer next door called someone.”

You took off your jacket after it was released and set off to the back of the building for your locker to slip on your coveralls. The factory wasn’t as big as one might expect, but the lot did include a separate storage building that Gavin used as an auto shop.

It wasn’t high quality in appearance, but comfortable enough to be called a business. With the few windows and drywall built to make a reception room, only four cars could fit at a time. What the shop lacked in architectural style, it made up with the hard work done on every car that was parked its work beds. For the passed eight years, Gavin had made a name for himself, becoming a well-known car detailer. The shop mostly dealt with usual tune ups and dent repairs, but every few weeks a customer would come in with a _big one_; a classical car in need of acute detailing to keep it up to snuff. And that’s where the real fun began.

Finally walking across the lot to the garage, you stopped at the reception room to clock in. The clipboard hung next to the time puncher. You read down the list of current cars in the shop’s possession and stopped at the second to last car: **Austin Mini MK1. **

Your eyebrows lifted at the notes written beside it: **_Engine Overhaul_**, **_Strut Replacement_**, **_Left Tail Light_** **_Replacement_**.

Well, you clearly had your work cut out for you today.

Laughter boomed from the repair portion of the building. You pushed passed the doors separating the two rooms and looked to see your three coworkers huddled together, snickering like cats. One could easily tell from their tattoos, piercings, and dark stares that they weren’t the average repairmen. Gavin took it on himself to hire people with potential who were stuck in the low-end of the spectrum; ex-convict, gang members, and thieves included.

The first one he hired before you was Royce. Caught him breaking into the factory to steal some parts of machinery. Instead of calling the cops, Gavin gave him an ultimatum to come work for him and earn a real paycheck. You’d met him years after. Compared to the rest, he was the most respectful. Still a dick most of the time, but he knew when to keep out of your business.

Tin, on the other hand…

Usually people in a similar economic standing minded their tongue.

Not Tin. The scars carved onto the left side of his face, down to his lips proved he had a run in with gangs. At one point he probably said the wrong thing to the wrong person. The loss of his right ring finger spoke volumes of that. He wore an earring of Saint Anthony on his right ear, explaining it was for anything else he might lose so he could get it back. You didn’t know what else he lost along with his finger, but you hoped he wouldn’t lose anything else in the future.

However, even with his sad background, Tin was a gossiping asshat. He made sure he knew everything going on in the city and parroted it off to you and the others. The street hearsay sometimes helped with business, especially if there was talk of feuds between some of the local gangs. But Tin also loved creating theories. Especially ones about you. Somehow you piqued his interest and everything you did was brought up to a magnifying glass. His theories were always so far from home that you just wanted to shout the truth at him. But you couldn’t. So, you had to stay with theories of you being a gang’s assassin and… cock war entrepreneur.

You’ve lost count on the amount of times you wanted to punch him.

And lastly, there was Kaliel. He was the only one of the three with tattoos that snaked from his left knee to his right arm. His build, though not as well-toned as Gavin’s was still menacing for any biased customer to deal with. Because of this, he was never allowed to work in the reception room. Compared to Tin and Royce’s defensive states, he was most chill; never judged anyone for their past. Sadly, that didn’t stop him from indulging in Tin’s terrible theories.

He had a record covered in blood and did the time, ending with early parole. Gavin saw potential for him to turn over a new leaf. In the two years he’s worked here, you’ve never seen him frown. This was good for him and you hoped it got better to at least a semblance of where he wanted it to be.

Tin was the first turn your way and cheer, “There he is! The hooded marauder.” He covered his head in a towel and mimed someone lurking.

You quirked an eyebrow at the three.

“You passed by the shop eight times.” Kaliel explained with a half smirk, “Ol’ Miss Murphy was clutching her pearls and everything.” He shook his head, “You were walking like you were possessed. What happened?”

All the while Tin was impersonating the Frankenstein monster.

You simply shrugged, stuffing your hands in your coveralls’ pockets.

“Uh…” you looked around, trying to come up with a vague answer, “I was… just thinkin’.” Your eyes flashed to Kaliel’s, hoping he’d let it go.

A familiar peach-tanned hand landed on your shoulder, causing you to jump in the suspicious atmosphere.

“I think that’s enough slacking off for the day, don’tcha think?” Gavin’s voice boomed with mirth.

You were eternally grateful for the save and retreated to the back walled off portion of the shop. It was already built in before Gavin made the storage building into a garage. He simply added a work bed and used it as a work space for your and any detailing projects. How you worked needed privacy as, you sometimes had to lift the cars in order to get the bed to rise properly. No matter how much work was done on it, the bed always seemed to malfunction.

The Mini Cooper sat on the car bed, engine already hanging overhead by an array of chains. Its cream paint paled and peeled around its doors. You grazed your fingertips alongside the back, noting the cracked tail light.

A low whistle escaped you as you eyed the cream and off-white interior.

_Well, hello Mrs. Robinson._

The seats had seen better days with minimal tears and patchy leather. You clicked your teeth at the sight and eyed the engine dangling overhead. It was barely recognizable with its crusty frame. You suddenly didn’t regret Gavin got a head start before you arrived. The car’s bumpers lied on the work bench at the corner of the room in case you had to lift the car. Minimal dents were appreciated. Guess you were starting with the struts. This one was going to take days to fix up and you could not wait to get started.

The guys howled in laughter in the background as you looked over the car once more, planning out the interior detailing. Gavin soon walked up after yelling one last joke of riding Betsy Sue all night long.

_Stars, kill me._

You cleared your throat, hoping to change the mood of the room.

“So, are we starting with the struts?” you asked.

He nodded, tossing you your gloves, “Yup. Rise her up and spread her wide so we can see what we’re dealing with.”

You sent him a look, “Really? You done?”

Last week Royce and Tin put Gavin on the spot to solve _another _one of their stupid bets. They’d always come up with these questions to ask and bet on his probable answers. Whoever was close enough won the money. The question at the time circled around what medical profession auto mechanics were closest to. Royce bet cardiologists while Tin put his money on plastic surgeons. But, with Gavin, no answer is simple, which is why… he answered… gynecologist. Your jaw dropped to the floor along with whatever tool Royce was holding. Since then, Gavin had been teasing you about the _female_ _anatomy_ of a car.

Karma’s a bitch if this is what Robin goes through with you.

He gave you that wide smile of his, skin crinkling at the corner of his eyes as light glinted off them like the sun’s rays on the ocean. You shook your head at his endearment and began taking out the components for a compact wrench.

You began removing the wheels. Stacking them by the workbench so it was out of your way. Gavin shined a flashlight on the struts and grumbled at the sight. You joined to take a look, eyeing the frayed piping that connected to the spindle. The strut _and_ lower arm control would both have to be replaced. You knew Gavin would give the car’s owner an agreeable deal. It’s just when there is work to be done that can’t be completed without another aspect of repair, people tend to refuse to pay.

Your worries were quickly doused by his terrible jokes he no doubt told the others minutes before, light brown eyes gauging your reaction.

“Gavin, I swear to every deity there is that I will bite you if you keep this up.” You threatened.

“That so…” he didn’t look worried as he unscrewed the steering knuckle.

“Yes. No mercy.” You answered back, holding onto the lower control arm as he finished taking out the ball joint that held it in place.

Sometimes you forgot how immature Gavin could get; him being only a third of your age, after all. But he had more experience when it came to the world than you did. You’d know him for nearly twenty years. You don’t regret the day you rolled into town. You’d intent on temping for a few weeks before moving on; a nomadic lifestyle was what you dealt with best. Stories of your kind staying in one place never ended well. But Gavin, having met you decades prior, thought otherwise, and offered you a job at his factory/auto shop. The steps you took after accepting, though hard, were life changing as you set out for something new. You made new friends along the way, building a new family; emotional bonds. You were ostracized as a human and not some freak. It was a warm kind of new, even with the bad attached.

You were snapped out of your memories of the past when the strut made a click as it came off. You set it on a side table alongside its screws and lug nuts and turned to see Gavin staring at you intently.

“What-?” you asked before his hand grabbed under your chin, smushing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker like a fish.

His hand, regretfully covered in grease, turned your head left and right as his eyes made mental notes. Your eyebrows furrowed at the action as you waited for an explanation.

“You’re overdue, aren’t you?” He finally released you.

“And what gave you that idea?” you asked, rubbing your cheeks with a towel.

“Your eyes are glowing.” He answered, crossing his arms.

You immediately started to blink and shake your head for a clearer state of mind then looked at him, “Better?”

He frowned and gave a slight nod, “How long has it been? Two? Three months?”

You shrugged.

“You know all you all you have to do is tell me when you need to go. Just give me a heads up so I can plan around your absence.”

“Heh. Kind of forgot, Gavin.” You set down the towel, “Until Robin pointed something out, thought I was fine.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I was… purring while… we were at Denny’s yesterday.” you gestured around you, “And I couldn’t tell.”

He exhaled through his nose as he looked up, thinking hard about something.

“Friday.” He finally answered, “Head up to the cabin for a week.” He held up his hand to stop your rebuttal. “If I can handle a day without you, I’m sure I’ll be fine for a week.”

You knew there was no point in arguing with a century old warlock. Gavin, like most magic users, used it to keep himself young for a time. Only a few decades prior, after becoming a father, did he decide to continue his life as a normal human.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” you surrendered with a smirk, pointing your thumb beyond the wall, “It’s the three stooges stuck with you.”

He scoffed at that as he moved onto the back struts.

You both had your secrets. He was a _retired_ warlock, while you were a third-generation demon hybrid. The “camping trips” were necessary for you to unwind from holding yourself back in order to fit into society. Only drops of humanity held you in a different place than a full-blooded demon, but just barely.

You put yourself in the present before your thoughts could fall any deeper into a dark place. Yes, you were different, but that didn’t stop you from trying to have a normal life. The life of a nomad, no longer appealed to you.

The rest of the work day crawled on as you worked on the Mini Cooper. You were disappointed the owner had refused to have it detailed, but to each their own; only spend money where you can, you guessed.

At the end of the day, you changed out of your coveralls. You chose not to wear your hoodie until you got outside since the guys liked reading your shirts. Due to this morning’s… shenanigans, they hadn’t gotten the chance. Today it was a pale-yellow T-shirt that read: “**I Can’t Be Beet**” on the back and “**I. AM. TURNIP.**” on the front with a turnip dressed as batman.

You got to the front of the office to see Robin in her rose, laced, cocktail dress with an uncomfortable look gracing over her made up face. Tin was in the middle of a pickup line as she looked your way. She pushed passed him and greeted you with a hug.

“Hey” you looked her over in surprise, “what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be heading to work?”

You eyed Tin over her with glare of warning. He immediately became an astronomer, admiring the ceiling, as Royce chuckled at his cowardice.

She let go of you with an awkward smile, “Uh, yeah. My shift starts in an hour.”

You knew that look.

“And” you coaxed.

She shuffled her black heels with a sigh, “And I need you to come with me.”

You gave her a look, “Why?”

“B-because” she gave a frustrated groan, “You know the designer I told you about? Well, he agreed to have a meeting with me before I started my shift and…” she rested her cheek on your chest as she crossed her arms, “I need someone there.”

You understood. Bennett cancelled on her again when she needed his support for this big moment of hers. This “will they, won’t they” crap was starting to get old. You sighed, noting the small growl that emanated from your chest.

_Breathe_.

This probably wasn’t the best idea, but…

“Okay.”

You heard a small sniffle come from her. She looked up at you with a blubbery smile, tears threatening to fall. Stars, she had it bad for this guy.

**-|-**

Robin’s gig, for the first few hours of the evening, was at the Corral’s Tavern, one of the higher-end bars in the city. The pay was great, but she only worked there once or twice per month. Hopefully, after seeing her meet with a designer, the owner would see her worth and give her more days to work.

The inside had dim lighting, giving off an old speakeasy vibe. You had to squint your eyes from the setting sun to the half-night interior. Black and dark mauve coated the walls in fancy patterns, some you could identify as music notes. Tables draped in white cloths lined up like diamonds around a stage and dance floor, each holding a small lit candle nested in a brandy glass.

Robin began walking further inside, eyes searching. The black lace on her dress blended in with background like camouflage. If not for the rose material peaking underneath the laced covering, she would have been harder to identify. She seemed to have found who she was looking for and began weaving around the tables. You took your time following her as she made her way to a table of… skeletons?

One, tallest you’ve ever seen, eyed you both upon approaching, as he (you hoped it was a he) leaned against a pillar behind the table where the other sat. Small, saffron eye (lights?) lit the bone around his sockets as he watched you closely, practically scanning you for signs of threats. You seemed to pass his test, as his fangs slightly lifted upward to form a smirk, a golden tooth gleaming in the dim lighting. You couldn’t tell what color of suit he wore as it blended well into the darkened atmosphere, but it looked like a pristine button up shirt, top two buttons undone with a coat folded over it and slacks; average formal wear. No doubt expensive.

The other sat in a chair in front of the pillar with a look of boredom as he looked elsewhere. Unlike the tall one, his red-violet eye lights were medium sized orbs that dimmed faintly as they turned to you. His face was rounder and smoother compared with the long and pointed look of the the other. He held a permanent smile with two long fangs at the side, giving off a more menacing jack-o-lantern vibe. However, the way he sat, legs crossed with his hands folded on his lap, spoke volumes of his arrogance.

_Pompous asshole, twelve o’ clock_, your mind chimed.

You mentally prepared yourself for the headache that lied ahead.

_Just keep your mouth shut and let Robin do the talking_, you nodded as you stood at the table next to her.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Black.” She greeted holding out her hand.

_Wait. So, they hadn’t met before? _

Your brows furrowed slightly as you eyed their encounter. Mr. Black didn’t move to shake her hand. Instead he eyed your appearances, eyes narrowing at yours. You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you turned your head away. It was no guess that your appearance didn’t meld well into the cocktail formal atmosphere; a hoodie and t-shirt with dark straight legged jeans and black converse. And, frankly, you couldn’t give two shits. You were there for your friend and would leave when she started her shift. Even her boss wouldn’t bother you over this.

He gestured for you two to sit. You figured the designers would want some privacy to talk so you turned toward the bar, planning to just buy a club soda to chill with. Instead Robin took hold of your wrist in a vice grip. You looked at her from the corner of your eye as the candle light danced dimly across her face, revealing her nervous look. You sighed, parking a seat beside her, sitting across from _his majesty_, King Pompous.

You shirked off your hoodie and draped it on the chair behind you, sliding down a little and leaning back as they began discussing her _credentials_ concerning fashion. Robin passed him her phone to show her past works. He frowned at the mechanism, slipping on a glove in order to touch the screen. You weren’t sure if Robin understood that the bone monster’s phalanges couldn't hold an electrical charge like she or you did, therefore making it next to impossible for him to use a touch screen with out assistance. At least her expression didn’t look offended.

You hummed at his prowess, earning a glare from him. Unphased, you simply smiled his way, lifting your eye brows profusely. An idea popped into your head as he swiped through the many pictures in Robin’s portfolio. You knew what was coming. Why not have a little fun?

He paused on a picture.

_Target in position_, you sat up in anticipation, leaning on the table and resting your cheek on your palm.

Eye lights flashed from the screen to you. No doubt he saw your shots wearing some of the clothes Robin designed for you. A smile graced your lips as you winked at him. He looked back down at the phone and continued, only to stop and look at you again. You shot him finger guns, clicking your teeth with a wink. His grip on the phone clenched slightly as he continued swiping through with an abnormally straight grimace.

_Come on… Let’s make it three for three_, your thoughts chanted as you squirmed in your seat, ready.

Once more, his eyes flashed to you for a moment as he compared another picture to your appearance.

_Wait for it…_

You didn’t do anything that time, watching him patiently, as he relaxed, taking more time to look at each picture as Robin gave random explanations to her designs. His eye lights began looking you over once more.

_Yes! _You internally cheered. _Couldn’t resist, could you?_

You quickly made an exaggerated kissing noise and blew the kiss his way.

Holy shit, the fruits of your labor were astronomical. His expression was priceless. An eye socket actually twitched as his permanent grin sunk into a displeased frown. You smiled with a slight chuckle. The skeleton looked like he was about to lose it.

Until Robin kicked you from under the table. You leaned back and sunk lower in your seat under her disapproving glare. Mr. Black seemed to calm at that, expression softening a bit. His eye lights looked over at you condescendingly which you shot back with a wink and toothy grin of accomplishment. Something about that seemed to stump him as he mulled something over, sliding Robin’s phone back to her.

She thanked him for the time to take a look at her work in which he responded horribly. You never knew arrogance could be an accent until now. Every sentence he spat out in his semi-deep, megaphoned voice was a nod to his _greatness_. He called Robin’s work mediocre at best, listing the problems he had with some asymmetrical designs alongside color choices, claiming it wouldn’t sell in stores and wasn’t fully thought out for mass production. With each sentence, Robin’s shoulders seemed to sink more and more.

_The fuck’s wrong with this asshole?_

You pushed out your chair loudly, interrupting his rant, putting a hand on Robin’s shoulder before turning to him. At this point, you didn’t care if your eyes were glowing or not. Hell, you hope he heard a growl rumbling in your chest. Of course, the cruel bitch that is fate, decided to make you normal this hour and none of that happened. Instead, what stood before that skeleton was a pissed off human that looked ready to throw something.

He gently got up from his chair and stared you down. Of course, he was tall. The skeleton behind him was practically a titan. What was he, seven feet?

_Focus! You’re defending Robin!_

It took every ounce of willpower you had to not grab him by his tie to make a point.

“Listen,” you said calmly, “my friend has worked her ass off creating beautiful works of art that can be worn. As, you know, that isn’t easy. And everyone has their own opinion when it comes to fashion.”

You rested your hands on the table to keep calm and saw something that brought back your confidence. Fate may be a bitch, but Lady Luck was as beautiful as ever.

“Besides,” you looked up into those red-violets, a smirk growing into a smug grin, “she achieved attire artistry without a silver spoon in her mouth.”

Oh, he didn’t like that at all, eye sockets narrowing at you.

“Her designs are based on a performance stand-point. Everything is made to stand out and make you look like a million bucks, regardless if it was spent on it. All of those articles of clothing are built for both movement _and_ admiration.” _And now for the kill_, “Best needle work I have ever seen. Which may not mean much coming from me but…” your eyes traveled down to his sleeve, illuminated by candle light, “it seems to be better than yours. Looks like your cuff’s thread is fraying.” He subconsciously hid his sleeve behind him, “And isn’t that a suit you designed, as you so _graciously_ relished to us?”

His expression was unreadable. You weren’t sure if you were winning or not.

“So how about this.” You gestured to Robin, “She has a lot to learn, you’ve made that _very_ apparent, but she also has style and talent that you don’t understand, but need.” You intertwined your hands together, “So why don’t you, stop being a pompous asshole for one second, and work with her?”

An exhale of defeat came from Robin when you finished. Shit, did you screw up? You straightened up from the table and turned to grab your hoodie. There was no way you going to back down now.

“And another thing,” you pointed a finger in his direction like a scolding mother, “I may not know a lot about design, but I can already tell what she has that you don’t. Heart… and effort. There’s a saying that if you put everything you got in what you love, it’ll shine brighter than any diamond or star. And so far, she’s proved it.”

You turned to Robin, hoping she wasn’t too mad at you. Her expression was stuck to one of shock.

“You don’t need to lean on this guy to achieve something like this. You have more talent in your pinkie than he has in bones.”

If there was even a chance to change his mind, you might have just diminished it. You gently put your hand on your shoulder, expecting her to shove it off, but she didn’t move. You felt terrible.

“Have a nice shift-”

“Fine.”

You looked over at Mr. Black. He seemed at a loss as he stared at the table, arm still behind him. He straightened his posture and looked down at the both of you with condescending arrogance.

“Perhaps… You Have A Point.” From the look of his expression, you wondered if skeletons could puke. He looked like a man held at gunpoint, “I do not understand your idea of… attire.” His eyes flashed to you then Robin, “But You Do Have _Some_ Semblance Of Adequacy. Let Us… _Discuss_ Further On The Matter.”

He simply turned on his heel, heading for a cornered booth with a small gesture to follow. Robin barely stood as if she had been struck dumb. You pushed her in the direction he left. Mechanically, she took each step to follow.

_Lady Luck, is fucking awesome_.

You smiled as Robin took a tentative seat in front of the skeleton monster. His expression was strictly professional as he got to speaking. You wondered if he had a volume setting. Even his inside voice (or you might have given him too much credit) still sent vibrations to where you stood. You relaxed when you saw Robin’s shoulders lower to its comfortable height and a vibrant smile lifted her cheeks. Her shift would be starting soon. You hoped their discussion went well.

_I think I’ve done enough emotional support for one day_.

You turned to leave the establishment-

“Oof.”

Only to hit a brick wall.

____

How? How could the Malevolent Black, the Blackened Ace of the Underground, have gotten a human as a soulmate? To make it worse, you acted like a petulant child, silently challenging him with your childish antics and teasing. It was clear you had no idea who was truly in charge here. He looked forward to training you once he made you his… eurgh, _theirs_. The aspect of sharing you displeased him to no end, but he couldn’t change what was fact. You were tied to him and his brother’s copies as tightly as you were bound to him. No matter, he would become your master soon enough.

Your appearance, specifically your attire, was the epitome of poverty in his eyes. All articles, including that cursed pun shirt, were all strip mall products. He and his family would make sure you had the best clothes made. Of course, most would be made from his fashion line. He could already picture making you his muse. But first, there was the problem of the human female.

He eyed how obedient you were with the her. Just a simple glare made you cower like a kicked puppy. At first, he thought you were lovers; something that could easily be remedied. His plans came to a halt when you defended her, calling her friend. A mild relief from having a messy evening, but still considered, Robin was it, a threat. She had tight reigns over you. Your protectiveness was proof enough.

Though your maturity had much to be desired, he admired your integrity. Standing up to him without faltering was a feat in itself. He expected no less from his soulmate. At least you had _one_ redeeming quality.

While he discussed designing works with the simpleton, he stole looks passed her to watch you. Grabbing that god awful (F/c) hoodie, you seemed content on finally leaving. He felt anger and disappointment at the sight of your departing form. He had not given you permission to go anywhere.

But what made his marrow truly boil, was the sight of his lazy doppelganger appearing in back of you before you turned around.

____

You fell back, expecting to land on your ass, only stop with a tough tug. Holding your nose, you looked to see yourself floating in place. Slowly, you were lifted to your feet. Vertigo instantly had you stumbling as something solid gently held you at your back. You lifted your hand from your nose, expecting to see blood. Your mind cheered at the clean bill of no blood, leaning forward as your head spun.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” You apologized, “It’s just hard to see in this caveman lighting.”

A deep baritone chuckle sounded in front of you.

“no skin off my nose, kid.”

You smiled at that, finally looking up at your victim/savior, “Thanks for the save…”

You looked up and up and up to see another tall skeleton, similar to Mr. Black. His permanent smile wasn’t sharp, but straight and toothy like a goofy smile. His stature was confident, yet lazy, with a wide and much thicker frame towering over yours with a dominant aura. He wasn’t fat, but fit into his suit as if he had a muscular frame. That was no beer belly you ran into, that’s for sure. If he were jumped, you were sure he’d be able to swat away his assailants like flies. Forget about saffron eyes back there, _this_ was a true titan.

How was this even possible, he’s supposed to be made of- Questions for later? Questions for later.

You were still staring at him, mouth slightly agape.

_Rude, rude. Crap, I’m being rude._

You closed your mouth, clearing your throat, and slipped on your hoodie.

“Sorry, again, Mister…”

He tilted his skull slightly to the side.

“take a guess.” Unlike Mr. Black, his mouth didn’t move when he spoke.

His lazy stature confused you. The way he spoke almost sounded like he was giving an order. You didn’t know his name, that was a given. The only one you knew was Mr. Black. So, you had to get creative. You scanned your thoughts for anything that remotely described a skeletal titan and was coming up with _nada_.

_Wait, didn’t monsters adopt the Harlem Era while they were in the underground?_

You flashed the tall bone man a triumphant smile as you pretended to mull over it longer, tapping your cheek.

“How about… _Big Cheese_.”

He blinked, slightly taken aback.

“_Mister _Blue Cheese.” You rocked on your heels at his expression.

His shoulders seemed to sink lower into a relaxed state as his smile grew wider and sockets crinkled at the corners, somewhat reminding you of Gavin’s carefree demeanor.

“heh, well I do dress _sharp_.” He winked an eye socket at you.

You accepted his pun challenge with a quirked eye brow, “Really? You’re that _cheesy_? You’ve _Gouda _be kidding me.”

He put a hand over his chest, “i _dairy_ tell a lie.”

Biting back a laugh you tried to give him a serious look and failed, “Okay, that one was bad.”

“eh, i’ve had _butter_ days.”

“Much better.” You gave him tiny claps against your palm.

His smile was endearing and you felt you could breathe a little more easily. He lifted his hand toward you.

“sans. sans the skeleton.”

“(Y/N)”

You took it with confidence, only to stop and gawk at how his hand engulf yours. Trying your best to give him a firm hand shake, you grasped onto what you could and shook your arm up and down, taking the weight of his hand along for the ride.

“Well, Mr. Sans-”

“just sans, kid.”

“Well, _Sans_… sorry again for bumping into you.” You wiped your hand along his waist coat.

_Didn't get any spit on you, at least._

He smirked at your apology, “well, i _could_ overlook this if you join me for dinner.”

_Uh, what? Is he serious?_

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Rain-check? I’m… not exactly dressed for the occasion. Plus, I kind of just got off work and am only here as… ” you pointed your thumb behind you, “emotional support for my friend.”

His stance seemed to change a bit at your refusal, hand clenching yours a little harder. It felt awkward.

_Why is he still holding my hand?_

“But,” you added, “I can do you ‘nother solid.” You gave his hand another sturdy shake and excused yours from his grasp, “On behalf of the city, I hope you enjoy your stay in Dristal. Feel free to ask me anything concerning the place.”

_God you sounded like a hotel manager_.

San’s smile fell a little, “dris…stal?”

_Ohhhh. He doesn’t know._

“Uh, yeah. That’s the name of the city.”

He continued to look baffled with a hum.

“Uh, well, the city sort of, kinda, _lost_ its name when its popularity decreased.” You shrugged, gauging his reaction.

He blinked, “so, it’s called dristal.”

You nodded, “Yeah, it used to be one of the greats, like Route 66 greats. Ever heard of ‘_The City in Between_’ or ‘_Two-Way Town_’?”

No response.

“Right, right.” _He was in the underground, you idiot_, “A few decades ago, the city was a tourist attraction for its barberry bushes in the winter and its location between Pearmound and Fletcher county; the places before Surface County was formed. This was called the Two-Way town because you could only travel north or south. You could go to the north toward Rivton in Pearmound. It’s basically the emerald city for botanists and ecologists who study the wild life and their enigmous existence with all the magic and crazy climates... you get the idea. Or you can go south toward Brinner_ the city of Bed and Breakfast_ and Elise which is basically the entire coast in Fletcher county. ‘Bout eighty percent of that population owns a boat of some kind with less than a fifth knowing how to swim. Major drownage over there. Summer is always filled with paramedics and yellow tape.”

He seemed to listen intently, nodding every now and then. His large, white, orbed, eye lights traced over your form as you told him about the city, seemingly becoming fuzzier and fuzzier.

How odd.

“Oh, and don’t worry about crime around here. We have a few gangs that feud every now and then. It’s not a rarity but it happens on an occasional basis. They rarely come to your side of town so…” You voice died out as three shady men in suits walked into the bar, looking shifty-eyed.

Sans followed your line of sight toward the men.

“Great, now I look like a liar.”

You silently hoped you didn’t deter him. The city needed the boss monsters’ presence to get back on the map and fork in some money. Though you didn’t wish to deal with the possibility of crime that came along with high cases monster residency rising to chaotic levels, you did want to see the city rise up to a level close to its former glory and possibly more.

The creeps finally left. You didn’t miss their nervous glances as they opened the door to the sunset colored world. San’s turned to you with a quirked bone (brow?) in amusement.

“didn’t look like a bunch’a crooks to me.”

_Did he do something to those guys?_

You sighed at his happy demeanor.

_Well, at least he didn’t look like he wanted to leave._

The sound of a cleared throat made you look passed Sans toward the bar. The bartender was watching you two intently. You knew what his look meant and sighed.

“Listen, I gotta go.” You shuffled passed him toward the door, “It was nice meeting you, _Sans_ the Skele-man.”

____

Sans watched you go, waving with his usual carefree grin. As soon as the door closed, his smile fell a little. His soulmate was a human, of all things. Wasn’t that hilarious? Regardless of your species, he found you interesting. You seemed to like his puns, your smile shooting a wave of warmth through his soul. He mulled over his conversation with you, memorizing your reactions and expressions toward him. You weren’t afraid when you’d seen him, only confused and slightly nervous. He wasn’t a stranger to that. At least you were respectful and actually opened yourself up enough to joke with him.

You, however, weren’t the acceptant type; too headstrong from what he could tell from your outburst toward Black earlier. Definitely harder to tie down. Luckily, you didn’t happen to be a cop. From the smell of oil wafting from your clothes, you were most likely a mechanic. However, you did show a soft kindness toward good intentions. Meaning, you only sought an eye for an eye from those responsible; ergo, Black dismissing your friend.

Surprising, considering your soul was dominantly integral. He guessed even sticking to morals could land in the _justified_ side of the spectrum.

He wasn’t pleased with the aspect of sharing you with the others; it being his dimension and all. But the merging of undergrounds was impossible to undo. It’s been nearly a decade since they were freed, a bit late to start sulking over spilt milk.

His hand clenched around the memory of your small one in his. It was so soft and warm, surprising since you were a mechanic. He had to use every ounce of willpower to stop himself from pulling you close when you refused his offer to dinner. But you were human, you didn’t sense his soul calling out to you like he felt yours. Patience was key in this situation. He had to wait. He’d get his chance soon enough.

You were male, but he didn’t see a problem with it. Gender was merely a choice in adjective or clothing when it came to monsters. Two males could have just as big of a family as a female and male could. And with the others’ _tastes_, it wouldn’t be a problem.

He knew this city held something valuable. Just wasn’t expecting it to be his soulmate. But, he digressed, at least he got some information about the city from you. Oh, how he longed to use that as an excuse to have your presence next to him, but he needed more concrete details about the city’s inner workings.

From what he interpreted, from your charismatic explanations, was that this city was a washed-out version of its former self. They could work with this. Building it up from its ashes back to former glory could give them a higher standing within the city a little faster than they’d originally planned. But he still needed more information concerning the businesses and small gangs that resided in what would be his family’s territory.

Another important tidbit was that the police were a force to be reckoned with, keeping unlawful acts at an all-time low. This city was probably filled to the brim with honest, boy-scouted men and that was a problem. His family and him would have to do a city-wide cleanse before they could make any progress.

Speaking of progress, he’d have to take care of those lackeys that walked into the bar earlier. Stars, how he hated having humans working under him. But he had to use what was available until more monsters could move into the city.

A small growl reverberated in his chest.

They nearly scared you off; something he couldn’t afford to happen a second time. And maybe he'd deal with that bartender while he was at it. The human seemed to make you uncomfortable with a simple clear of his throat.

Then there was you. The only concern now, was what to set out as bait to entrap you with. They’d have to start making preparations once they were finished with this city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing SUUUUUCKS! Gah, hated writing the garage scenes. They were too long! Detail or over detail: my main weakness.  
At least the city finally has a name.  
Good golly these skellies are possessively territorial.  
On a good note, I found a site you 1920 writers can use for slang: http://www.huffenglish.com/gatsby/slang.html  
I'm goin' to bed- Ah, who am I kidding, I'm watching more episodes of Grimm.  
Have an awesome nice day/night/evening/morning everyone~!  
P.S. I haves a Tumblr now: [Check It Out!](https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com)


	3. Hold Your Liquor, Son.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After saying goodbye, you take your week-long trip. When arriving back, you run into more skeleton(s) than you can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fall, Everyone~!  
This took me... five days to write. Over 23 pages. Longest chap yet.  
Also... *looks at the five million kudos notifications on email* THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR OVER 100 KUDOS!  
I never thought I would get this many in less than two weeks.  
Thank you so much for reading and finding enjoyment in this story. It really means a lot.  
(Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(H/c) - Hair color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change  
_*_*_ - Flashback

Winds howled as clouds blanketed the sky. The October storms had finally arrived for their month-long cloudburst. No doubt, Halloween would be a night of raincoats and boots instead of masks and candy this year. Street sweepers worked late in the night alongside construction workers and volunteers during last minute preparations for the upcoming storm. Sidewalks and storm drains were cleared of any litter to reduce the chance of flooding. Parks along the edges of forests were closed while nets were draped over sides of hills with sandbags crowded at their feet. It’s surprising that in the previous decade, October was only graced with high winds.

As usual, when the city was up in a buzz, the buses were stopped until the streets were cleared. From the sound of thunder in the distance, they’d soon be cancelled until further notice. Looks like you’ll be walking home in the upcoming monsoon. In the coming days, a canoe would be a better alternative to a vehicle.

You hugged your tope bag close as you walked down the long street toward the complex, wind fighting your every step. You snuck passed the gate alongside a passing car and hurried toward Robin’s building. The cold had finally gotten to you as you ran up the steps and down the breezy hall. After a swift knock on her apartment’s door, you took a second to catch your breath.

It was a little after two in the morning; late for most people to be up. Except for Robin. She had just gotten off work at midnight and texted you to come for a “good-bye dinner”. Robin _rarely _cooked anything. Which meant she most likely prepared instant noodles, chips, and candy with a few bottles of Seagrams to wash it down. College students would be envious.

You, however, took it upon yourself to buy a few dishes from your favorite Pacific bistro, Teilong. A bit much to buy for _your _“good-bye dinner”, but her reaction would be worth it in the long run.

You stood at the door, waiting for her to answer. On nights like this, you wished she would pick up the pace. By the time she’d answer, you’d be an icicled corpse.

An uneasy feeling traveled up your spine as another reason Robin should make haste came to mind. It only took three minutes last time. You swallowed and gave Robin’s door another curt knock. Cue Jaws’ theme music as the sound of a door opening echoed behind you.

_No, no, no_, your thoughts screamed, _this was supposed to be a peaceful night_.

Steps approached your stiff form as you stood under the light next to Robin’s door. You waited as the predator grew closer, clutching the bag to your chest, intent on not giving it up without a fight. Slowly, you turned around to face your assailant to see… Mr. Bradburn, from further down the hall, walking his scruffy Yorkie. He gave a small wave while he took his time to get passed you toward the stairs. You waved back at the senior, held breath finally released. Your knees nearly gave out as you turned back to the door, hearing it unlock and swing open.

Robin gestured for you to enter, which you accepted without hesitation, hurrying passed her. You placed the bag on her kitchen counter and breathed into your hands to warm up.

“Must be a hell of a storm out there if you’re shivering at my doorstep.” She teased.

You cast her a side glance, “Yeah, any longer and I would have been an _ice sculpture_ on your doorstep.”

She laughed as she made way to her TV room.

“Old man Bradburn walked by. Practically a speeding bullet compared to you.” You hollered while sneaking back to the front door, silently locking the top lock, and ran on tiptoes back to the kitchen to unpack your bag, “I mean, what are you even doing in here? The door’s ten steps from your room.”

She peeked from the room’s doorway with a smug grin and ambled your way, “Well, I _might_ have prepared something oriental.” _Oriental Instant Noodles_, “And maybe found some flat rolls that may or may not have been made in Mexico.”

You lifted an eyebrow as your brain took out its handy-dandy Robin dictionary.

_Taquitos from El Baja down the street_.

You nodded with an amused hum and hid your shock under a smile.

_She actually bought something this time._

“_And_”, she continued, “maybe, _just_ maybe, I have uncovered ancient recipes that mold sugar into many shapes and forms.” She hugged you, head resting between your shoulder blades as her arms gently squeezed your waist.

_Oh shit, she cooked_.

You paused.

_OH SHIT, SHE COOKED! _

At this point, you could be called a puppet as your expression took on a poker-faced smile.

There was a reason Robin rarely cooked. It wasn’t because of her time-consuming job or social life. No, it was due to lack of… _talent_. Most dishes ended up slightly burnt or not prepared well. On Thanksgiving a few years back, she baked a turkey. Needless to say, the turkey wasn’t well done. For lack of a better word, it was more _undone_ than you would like to admit. It was weird since her stuffing came out dry as bread. You blamed it on the oven she had in her small apartment at the time to keep her spirits up. A part of you regret that action as she continued to cook random dishes or pastries out of the blue and expect you to try and eat them. If you weren’t barely human, you most likely would have keeled over years ago. Even after giving her a lot of constructional criticism, she still continued to try. You admired her tenacity, as she had improved over the years, but a little didn’t always go a long way.

Whenever she gets a hint of inspiration during a holiday or season, the oven mitts are on. A cold chill traveled down your spine as you remembered her _version_ of Christmas fruit cake last year. She called it her… _creative input_. 

_Who the hell bakes orange slices into a fucking fruit cake?!_

You expect to have PTSD around holiday baked goods this year.

Gently, you unwound her arms from your waist and turned to her, with a wavering smile.

“O-or, we could enjoy some Teilong…” you reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic one wrapped tightly around two to-go boxes.

Her grin fell as she eyed the box.

“A-as well.” You added as her eyes flashed to you with an astonished (and slightly hurt) look, “Absolutely, _as well_.”

_Dammit, not the puppy eyes._

She took hold of the bag, untying it on the kitchen counter, and opened the to-go boxes to reveal Hunan Chicken and Curry Fried Rice. Her disappointed look seemed to brighten slightly as she stared at the dishes with confliction.

She turned to eye you from over her shoulder, “Eat two cookies and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

You took the chance to alleviate the tense mood and dangled three bags of crispy Chinese noodles in front of her. Like a raccoon, she snatched the bags from your hands and walked a few steps away to look at them. Even Smeagol would have told her to take it down a peg.

She finally regained her composure, looking at you with a content smile, “Give me all of these and eat _one_ cookie. Then I’ll forgive you.”

Tough bargain, but you’d take it. You nodded in agreement with a shrug. She approached you with a half smile and took out another bag of noodle crisps from your hoodie’s pocket. You shrugged, unmoved at being caught. She simply lifted an eyebrow at you and retreated to her room to hide the bags in the lock box she called her “crave-stash”. You remembered seeing it sitting on her bed months back filled with small snacks, chocolates, and other candies. She didn’t dodge the question when you asked about it. Instead, she answered every woman needed one. Fair enough, even if you didn’t own such a thing. No further questions were asked and you left it alone.

She exited her room, coming into the kitchen to take out two bowls and set them down on the counter. You both served yourselves, popped the bowls in the microwave, and put the leftovers into the fridge. After grabbing some napkins, you began following after her toward the TV room, only to stop after hearing a hard thunk coming from the front door.

Although it was a few minutes later than last time, it was expected. Like sharks lead to blood infested waters, the bloodhound waited at the door. She didn’t even knock, only trying her key and jiggling the door knob once more. Never had you been so proud of a lock. Tonight, would be peaceful without any unwanted interruptions. Of course, the fridge would most likely be ransacked later today. Knowing Robin, she would let her in eventually. But, until then, this was your night, your moment of Zen.

Robin’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, “Did you drop something in there?”

You shook your head out of habit as you made your way to the TV room, “No… Must have been one of the neighbors.”

Well, you weren’t lying.

The TV room was warmly lit by the overhead fan light. Books, scattered in a disarrayed heap, lied on the opposite side of the room by the book shelf. You lifted an eyebrow at the mess. Though she could be messy, Robin always made sure her home was tidy before guests arrived. Odd.

A coffee table sat in front of the couch, diagonal from the television, with the original preparations for tonight. You eyed a few covered plates, noting the deal you had just made. A sniff escaped you as took another whiff of air, smelling nothing burnt or sweet. Noting your action, Robin removed the tops covering her two plates of “pastries”. A burnt smell wafted throughout the room like a ghost, making you ponder again how she got rid of the smell to begin with. One platter held a few largely sized cookies scattered along the plate while the other had what looked like brownies covered in melted whipped cream stacked into a small mountain. With each passing second, your body deflated in defeat. She gestured for you to try a cookie with an excited smile.

You tried your hardest to stall for time before your taste buds met their demise and hesitantly took one and marveled at its size, turning the flat cake from left to right. Was it too late to start count your blessings?

“You know, cookies aren’t considered pastries.” You tried.

Her impatient look said it all. You took a breath, building up the courage to take a bite and did so with eyes squinted shut. A minute passed before you realized you hadn’t frowned in disgust, but continued chewing. The cookie was surprisingly nice and fluffed like Danish bread. There was something about the flavor that you couldn’t put your finger on. The cookies tasted sugary with a cream-like aftertaste. Perhaps she used birthday-cake flavored mix?

A content hum left you as you took another bite, giving her a congratulatory thumbs up, “This is pretty good.”

“Really?” she looked at you in disbelief, “They aren’t bad?”

You shook your head with a relaxed sigh as you took another bite, “How did you manage to make the dough turn out so crispy and fluffy? It’s like I’m eating a cake.”

She cast you a worried glance.

“I didn’t.” she squirmed a bit from her end of the couch, “They were supposed to be doughnuts.”

You stopped mid-chew. Looking closer at the _cookie_, you noticed a small hole in the middle of it.

_Aren’t doughnuts supposed to be fried_?

And there was the kicker. Your brain surmised that she instead baked them on a cookie sheet, resulting in some pretty tasty flat doughnuts (cookies).

“Eh, call it cookies and you get a kick-ass A in baking.” You winked at her.

She smiled with a nod. You were happy she improved this much, even if it was a happy-go accident, she still followed most of the recipe.

You decided to give her other pastry a try. The originating factor for the burnt smell made you uneasy as you reached for it.

“Okay, the cookies came out great. Let’s try out the brownies.” You told yourself, slowly picking one up. It was hard and crusty.

“They’re supposed to be cupcakes.”

Perfect timing for it to slip from your fingers and collapse onto the coffee table like a rock, shattering into chunks of ash. A smell of strawberries permeated among the mess.

“Strawberry cupcakes?” you lifted a brow at her with a nervous laugh, “How long did you cook these?”

_And how isn’t your apartment covered in burnt marks_?

“I put icing over it.” She defended, looking like a wet kitten in the rain.

“_This_ is icing?”

You inspected the chunks closely to see it wasn’t melted whipped cream but congealed icing that had been on top of the burnt cake with dried over bubbles.

_Did she add the icing while it was still burning?_

You cleaned up the mess, sweeping the remains into a napkin, and put it back on the plate followed by its cover.

“Yeah… I’m not trying that. Just because my stomach is powerful enough to digest igneous rocks,” you looked to her with a knowing smirk, “doesn’t mean I want to eat one.”

She gave your thigh a playful kick from her side of the couch, resulting in you grabbing her ankle. She squealed as you pulled her down the couch with a playful smirk.

“Fine. A deal’s a deal. I forgive you.”

She quickly moved her legs back after you released her, soft giggles shaking her form.

You gave an accented “_thank you_” and bowed form your seat.

“Dork.” She mumbled, reaching into a cooler by her side of the couch to pull out two alcoholic beverages. After opening them with a bottle opener, she passed you one with green liquid as she took the peach one for herself.

You gingerly sipped yours then looked over the bottle and read the label.

“Smirnoff?”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t ask. The store was all out of Seagrams.” she took a sip of her peach flavored beverage, “All gone. Didn’t even have the Pina Colada. Gah, I hate it when we have the same taste as the majority. Lucky, I found this multi-flavored twelve pack.”

“I see this is a sore subject for you.” You deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

“Mm, right, right. This is supposed to be a going away party.” She deterred, “A time to get drunk and let loose.”

You looked at the label once more with a scoff, “Four-point five percent alcohol. We’re going off the wagon tonight.”

She laughed, “All the more reason to finish the twelve pack.”

You rolled your eyes, “Seriously, I’m only going to be gone for a week.”

“And we’ll all miss you.” she fluttered her eyelashes at you, clinking her bottle with yours before putting it down on the coffee table, “Good-week to you on your natural odyssey… humping trees and _whatever_.”

You choked on your drink.

“The fuck-?” The drink was set down on the coffee table as you gasped for air, wide eyes staring at an amused Robin as she took a forkful of food from the pastel bowl in her lap.

“Where… the hell-?” the question was interrupted by another coughing spell.

“What? Gavin told me you were leaving because you were pent up.”

You swore that man’s time was limited once you got back.

She ate another forkful, “You know, it makes sense since I haven’t seen you go out with anyone. If you didn’t curse like a sailor, I would’ve thought you were celibate as a nun.”

You shook your head, wiping off your mouth as you took deep breaths from your nose. You tried to find the words as your voice cracked from a whisper.

“That is not what happens out there.” You rasped, “Gavin’s just being… _Gavin_.”

“T’s not like I have anything else to go off of.”

Your mind instantly flashed to the memory of her finding out you were a demon, the fearful look on her face etched in your mind. Only after talking to Gavin, she finally approach you for an explanation. It was hell simply explaining you were still a person though different from humans. After weeks of hour-long park meetings, she finally explained her fearful confusion, asking you if you had planned to _eat_ her. When you gave her a simple _no_, she had the gall to ask if she wasn’t appetizing enough, trying her hardest to shroud her fear with humor. It took months to get her to look at you with a genuine smile like before. From there on, your friendship continued, with a few bumps on the road, to what you share now.

_The less she knows, the better_.

You never really discussed your _affairs_ when it came to Robin. If anything had to be done concerning your other side, you’d simply send a text her way explaining you would either be out of town or radio silent for a few days to took care of it; nothing less, nothing more. And Gavin had to screw it all up, filling her head with this nonsense. You were starting to get the feeling he was becoming a terrible influence.

“It-it’s not like that.” You tried to explain, “I just… need some relief.”

Her eyebrows rose at that, “Mother nature must be satisfying.”

“Robin.” You gritted your teeth, “Would you mind collecting your brain from the gutter and allowing me to explain?”

She held up her hands in appeasement and gestured for you to continue.

“Okay,” you slid a hand down your face, “Do you know what it takes for someone like me to live on this city_ _any _city?”

She shook her head.

“Demons have a specific set of norms to follow when it comes to living in a human dominant society.” You began, “We can’t gnash our teeth and hiss at someone we hate, or purr-”

“Or mount someone that catches your fancy.” She added with a smirk.

“_Point being_,” you raised your voice a little, “we hide a lot of ourselves when living out here, some more than others. We tend to… take a trip… in order to _unwind_, if you will.”

Her expression fell a bit.

“I know, it’s weird, but there’s more to it, especially if you take physical aspects into consideration-”

“No,” she interrupted, “your eyes.”

You quickly closed your eyes, trying to center yourself to a manageable level, then blinked them open to look her way. The expression she held was full of worry with a hint of something else. Even today, as far as your relationship had come, you could still instill a semblance of fear in her. Slowly, her stature relaxed as she forced a small smile. You whispered an apology, eyes finding the coffee table most interesting in that moment.

“It’s nothing sexual.” You barely spoke up, “It’s just some leeway for my other side to unwind. It can be… _difficult_ living here. Human laws are set from a logical standpoint, not an instinctual one.” Your eyes flashed to her confused form, “I need these trips to be somewhat normal, enough to fool humans at least. Doesn’t matter if I’m hated by some snot nosed asshats. As long as I’m not shot in the streets for taking a chunk out of somebody, everything’s okay. It’s all I can ask for.”

She gave a slight nod, clearly uncomfortable from where conversation had led to.

Your brain quickly searched for an appropriate subject change.

“So…” you took a forkful out of your bowl, refusing to make eye contact, “how’s the _apprentice-gig _going?”

She clicked her tongue, also continuing on her bowl, then began to explain the hard times of working with Mr. Black for the past three days. He’d ask for designs with specific aspects which she’d send as a picture via text the same day or the following morning if she had to make it. She’d research everything she could and change her designs accordingly before sending them to him with a two-page essay explaining the length and cuts, all written in memo form (which she also had to learn how to do). But, even with expanding her knowledge and vocabulary, she was met with dismissive feedback. She compared him to a pompous college professor with a PhD calling every students’ work barely adequate simply because their expectations were impossibly high to reach. With a sigh, she questioned if it was right to continue the apprenticeship.

“Intimidation.” You whispered, “He’s using intimidation and arrogance as pressure to see how much you can handle and how.” You smiled her way, “You don’t have to change fully in order to improve. Only take notes from his lessons while teaching him some of your own.”

She bit her lip while mulling over something, “I might ‘a… screwed up.”

You expression morphed into one of concern as you placed your empty bowl on the coffee table.

“Today at Remy’s, we had a meeting before open hours.” She tucked her side bangs behind her ear, “It was… not the best evening for me, so… putting up with his shit was a no-go.” She sighed, “I snapped. A little. Loudly?” she groaned at her mistake, “He didn’t _exactly_ yell back, but offered an ultimatum: I bring my muse to the party in a few weeks to test out its worth in the public eye. If it fails, my reputation, everything made in the future by me, will be worthless.” Her eyes flashed to you, “I agreed to it.”

You sighed, “A lot of holes in that deal of yours. You know that, right?”

_Such as who decides if her design is chic enough,_ your mind chimed.

“I know but, I just- This is the only chance I have to prove to that smug jerk that I have what it takes to be considered a designer.” She sighed, “If I succeed, everything could change.”

_Same thing if you fail_.

You shook you head, taking hold of your beverage, “Still though. Your muse flaked last time. What are you going to do if it happens again?”

She was silent as you drank the rest of your bottle.

“About that…” her face held an apologetic expression, “I sort of told him _you _were my muse.”

“Come again?” you eyed the bottle’s alcohol label to make sure you weren’t drunk.

“Please.” She begged, “You were my best option.”

Being a walking mannequin for people to ogle at wasn’t even at the one hundred on your bucket list. You really preferred not to have any part in it. The situation would be bad enough if Robin invites you as her plus one, especially if certain higher-end people are there. But being a model felt like it would be so much worse; becoming the top percent’s barbie doll.

_But, Robin…_

“I’ll think about it.” You answered, “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to handle being twisted and turned like some pooch at a dog show.”

“You won’t.” she answered without fault, tossing you a bag of noodle crisps.

A dumbfounded look crossed your face as you picked up the bag, “Wh-where were you keeping this?”

“Under a pillow.”

“What- but-?”

“Looks like you’re losing your touch if you can’t keep up with my _sneaky antics_.”

You scoffed, shaking you head at her poor portrayal of a thief, “I’m not that old…”

Three hundred forty years was considered to be a young adult for your species.

“Couldn’t guess if I wanted to.” She shrugged, opening another bottle and passing it over, “Your turn.”

You gave her a confused look.

“I told the highlight of my week.” She gestured toward you while also cradling a new bottle, “Ah, wait, I didn’t ask: _How was your week, Sweety_?” Her piped up voice made you smile, regardless of how much you tried hold it back.

You leaned back into the couch blowing a raspberry.

“Gavin told the guys I was leaving for a week’s vacation.” You shook your head, “The last hour of work was filled with goodbyes like I was going to war or something. Went the whole nine yards; sang ‘_Aloha Oe_’ and everything. Even got gifts.”

“Oh~!” Robin playfully teased, “Rare gifts, I assume?”

“Not in the strictest definition.” You laughed and listed out the gifts the boys got you. Royce gave you a **BTW, I’M LEAVING **t-shirt while Kaliel gifted a bucket of Tootsie Pops. And lastly, you dug in your pocket, pulling out a blue and silver coin, and tossed it to Robin.

“To the brave, united, and true… Celebrating five… years of sobriety?” she looked at you with a hilarious confused look.

Tin had given you a sobriety coin. As usual he was continuing with his preposterous theories. This time, you were supposedly leaving on a week long hiatus because of… anger management issues. And with that, he gifted you this coin. You should’ve gotten a medal engraved “_Most Patient Coworker_” for putting up with him.

“Yeah, funny thing is… I don’t think it’s his.”

She gave you a look, “How-?”

“Take a guess.”

She blinked, eyes flashing from the coin to you.

“Trust me, I’ve witnessed him down half a bottle of vanilla Galliano, without a drop of shame, at Chauvs.”

“Wait. Hang on a second.” She gestured for you to stop, “Chauvs… the open mic bar off of Denton?”

You nodded.

“_You_ went to an open mic bar?”

“…Yes?”

“Hm, learn something new every day.” She mumbled, taking a drink.

You rolled your eyes, “I only came on a few escapades. It’s not like I really sang or anything. Tin sings enough in our stead anyway.”

“_Tin_ sings?” she was flabbergasted.

“Absolutely,” you drank, “with the charisma of a panda and the voice of a dying siren. Hell, get a few Cosmopolitans in him and he sings ‘_At Last_’.”

“Seriously?” Her face was red from laughing.

“Well, at that point your ears have been bleeding for at least an hour so you’re pretty numb from the blood loss.” You smiled, “Gotta admire the guy’s spirit though.”

“Invite me next time. It’s worth a day off to see this.” She said, wiping tears from her cheeks, “Never took the playboy flirt for a singin’ man.”

“Eh, books and their covers, right? Anyway, that was my highlight with some laughs to go with it.” A yawn escaped you, “I should probably get going soon.”

The lights flickered as thunder roared outside, signifying the upcoming odyssey during your walk home.

“What time does your bus leave?” she asked.

“Eight.” You answered, “I plan on sleeping on the bus.”

You pulled out your phone to check the time; fifteen minutes after four already. You still had time to hurry home, shower, then head back out to the transit center. Hopefully the commuter buses would still be in service today.

Robin yawned in agreement and opened her arms wide for you to give her a hug. You playfully pounced on her, tucking your arms under her stomach.

“See,” Her fingers gently combed through your hair, “Personal cat, right here.”

There you were, purring again without your logical consent. She huffed in disappointment as you pulled away, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to regain normalcy. You would be walking home. Even in the rain, someone would be able to see your glowing eyes from a long distance.

_Just a little longer_, you begged yourself.

You quickly said your goodbyes and headed out. Once Robin closed the door, you concentrated, lifting your hand and turning it slightly to the right, hearing the top lock click into place. Proud of your small feat, you began your trek home, only to stop at the sound of a door opening and closing. You turned around to see Basia exiting her apartment and walking straight to Robin’s door. You noticed her full key ring as she inserted the key into the lock. Thoughts came to mind of more people she somehow suckered into lending her a key.

You breathed after making a decision, turning to face her as she pushed on the door, groaning in aggravation when the it didn’t open.

“Can I help you?” you asked, making her jump a few feet in the air.

She turned to you, looking like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“You do know what time it is, right?” you hinted.

“Uh, y-yeah.” She nodded your way and scurried hermit crab without its shell back to her apartment.

With a swift gesture of your hand a small gleam of (F/c) light momentarily cut through the key-chain on her waist. A few keys fell on the doormat as she entered her apartment. You took that as your cue to leave, walking toward the stairs and pulling out Robin’s spare key from your sleeve.

**-|-**

____

You were quite the enigma in Rus’ sockets; something about you stood out, even among humans. Your scent, was, to put it lightly,_ exotic_. From what he knew, humans were in a constant state of heat and did not give off pheromones like monsters did, however, change in body temperature and hormone levels, alongside skin chemistry, gave off different scents.

Female scents were easier to decipher than males. Your friend, for example, was in the final stages of her ovulation cycle during their last encounter. Compared to any human that had crossed his path, you didn’t smell much like anything. Sure, you had skin chemistry, a key factor he could use that to track you down, but that was it. You didn’t secrete anything nor had your body temperature changed.

The same could be said for your soul. Soul-beats were similar to heartbeats as they changed in rhythm due to stress levels and differing moods. But yours didn’t seem to follow the same rules. He had watched your soul in the midst of your defending speech against his brother. Your friend’s chartreuse soul was beating faster than a humming bird’s wings, while yours kept a calm and steady beat.

Surmising your soul’s lack of response to deeming milord as less of a threat would have been false. You were weary of his brother from the moment you approached the table. Every move he made was watched closely, eyes full of caution, even during your playful high jinks.

His soul sent signals throughout the conversation to calm and warn you not to take it any further. Soulmate or not, his responsibility to his brother took higher precedence. But your soul never sent more than a hum, a bell chime that you existed. It was odd. He’d never seen a reaction like this. Even humans react when their souls are pinged by a monster’s. It was like your soul had the ability to reach out like a caged bird’s song, but couldn’t fly or perch anywhere, simply blocked from the world.

Milord had originally ordered Rus to keep an eye on you. Without falter he did so, except on that Friday morning. After leaving your friend’s place, he followed you throughout the storm from the rooftops, but lost sight of you in one of the side alleys. He searched through dozens streets, for once getting worried. After finally shortcutting to the balcony outside your apartment’s living room, he found you entering your bedroom to change out of your soaked clothes. Thinking you were done for the night, he left to report back to his brother, only to come back an hour later to find the apartment empty. He teleported inside to search every inch of the place himself, but found nothing.

Gone. _You_ were gone.

His brother didn’t have to order him to look for you. He scoured the city for days, but came up with nothing. It didn’t take long for milord to start taking drastic measures, bringing in his classic counterpart on your disappearance. Classic tried to gather information on your whereabouts, but you weren’t a person defined by social circles. None of his informants could find a crumb of information considering you disappeared to. Even Rus was starting to get antsy. It’s one thing to have a soulmate live in a separate house, but not having you in their sights was like being buried alive under the Antarctic. Their souls currently had a one-track mind and currently held one goal: **To find you**.

Today marked the second day milord met with the little bird before her shift at the seedy bar. His brother sat at a table in the far back corner as they discussed plans for the upcoming celebration held at the new mansion. She would not only be performing but showing off her design she promised would be extraordinary. Milord was on edge, lying back in his chair to shroud his fidgeting, steering the conversation to questions about her muse, _you_. She continued with stories of you assisting her with the physical creation of her designs, but that’s not what anyone wanted to know. Your friend finally let it slip that you had left for a camping trip the previous week. She didn’t have details on where exactly you went, but inferred it was most likely in _Pearmound_, the northwest portion of Surface County, adding you wouldn’t be back until later this week.

Rus was amazed his brother didn’t ask him to comb the acres of forestland for you. The promise of having you meet with him to discuss pointers in modelling seemed to be enough for the time being.

As much as he wanted to blame you for playing this dangerous game, he couldn’t. You were different. Your _soul_ was different. He should be angry, but he could only smile. Every action you made was unpredictable. You were an enigma in his midst, a being of unpredictable trickery. Curiosity cut into him like a blade as he tried to fathom how he lost track of you that night. He wanted to know more about you; how you worked and functioned.

He wasn’t as patient as his soft counterpart, but he could wait a few days before making his move. You were playing with fire and had no idea. 

_let the games begin_… _doll face_.

**-|-**

____

Douglas firs and pine trees towered over you as sunlight fought its way passed their branches. Your boots squelched in the mud while you dragged your prize toward the cabin. The ground was still damp from the previous storm that lasted three days. Today marked six days out of your seven-day trip. The passed days had been peaceful. You breathed in the pine scents, storing it to memory, reveling in the feeling of freedom. Taking the trip when you did was needed. For the past few days, you’ve felt renewed, invigorated even.

A familiar ringtone made your ear twitch, prompting to drop your prize at the foot of the cabin’s porch and enter the sliding screen door. Your satophone lied on the kitchen table. Grabbing it, you pressed the answer button and put it on speaker.

“Yo.”

“Fun times in nature?” a familiar voice rasped.

“Gavin, hey.” You greeted.

“How’s the cabin?”

“It’s great. Real nice out here. It’s been _way_ too long since I’ve been out here.” You leaned against the counter.

“Any trouble?”

“No. Had to walk to Brentwood the first day, in the rain, but other than that, it’s been peaceful.” You began licking the blood off your arm.

“Okay. Well, I just called to remind you to do some extra clean up.”

You paused mid lick, eyes flashing from your bloodied arm then toward the line of muddy foot prints leading from the sliding glass door. Your long, busy tail, currently wrapped in now bloodied polyester-cotton boxing wraps, rested and curled around your ankle.

“Right, extra vacuuming and… I’ll use bleach on the bath tub this time.”

“That’s my girl.” He praised, “Also, I have Robin here to talk to ya. Feathers are floofed to the roof. You want me to take a message or…?”

You sighed, “Nah, I got it.”

After a few seconds of rustling, Robin’s voice boomed out of the phone’s speaker.

“(Y/N)! Oh my stars, I have been trying to reach you for days!”

“Hey, Robin~” you sang in a monotoned voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had to use a satellite phone?”

“Because I usually text you while I’m in Brentwood. But because of the storm-”

“You’re in Brentwood?!” she screeched, “That’s like Maine condensed into a city.”

“Yeah, well, I needed a secluded place to do what I need to do.” You walked to the sliding glass door to make sure no predators took your prize, “Now, I kind of need to quarter this deer so-”

“You killed Bambi?”

“Robin… calm the fuck down. I didn’t kill Bambi.” You clicked your teeth, “I killed his father.”

You eyed the large buck at the foot of the porch’s steps while she mumbled a curse.

“This is normal for me, okay.” You explained, “You wanted to know more about me. _This_ is what I do to unwind those pent-up instincts.”

“By killing something.” She accused.

“What- No. Just surviving on instinct for a few days. That includes _hunting_, thank you very much. I’m a predator, not a killer. Besides, I thought you liked the deer jerky I brought you.”

“I thought it was store bought.” She mumbled.

“_Anyway_, what’s up? Gavin said you were freaking out.”

“Oh! Yeah. I talked with Mr. Black earlier this week. He wants you to come over for some modelling tips.”

You frowned at that, “Why?”

“I don’t know. To be honest, I think coordinating this party is getting to him. You should’ve seen his face. He looked as desperate as a man who’d gone two days without water. Look, it’s on Saturday evening. I have to go for rehearsals anyway. Besides, you really do need lessons.”

_Great, alone in a room with King Pompous_.

The thought of being a student under his tutelage felt like being dragged into servitude, no _slavery_. Robin only met him in public places and dealt with his arrogance to such a high level that she wanted to quit. Imagine the hell you’d go through in his _home_, a place where he could very much be king.

You felt your ears flatten against your head as a strained growl and hiss escaped you.

“What the hell was that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice took on a growled, polyphonic tone.

“Sounded like a- Wait, oh my god… Are your cute cat ears out?” she squealed.

“For the last time they aren’t cat ears. You only saw them once and-”

“You’re not canine or feline. It’s all under personified standards that humans use to compare animal characteristics to other living things. I know, I know. You’ve given the speech a million times.”

You had a small argument with her a few years back when she tried to guess what race of demon you were. She first guessed a werewolf, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Tenacity took over her, as she bought many thick books on demons. You could only imagine the looks she got while purchasing them. It was a long week with her asking questions about what attributes you held then giving her guesses using the long never-ending lists books provided. You never revealed your lineage, shutting her down after calling you a raccoon dog, having no idea what that was supposed to be. You couldn’t grind humans for naming the many demons met throughout history as pronouncing their actual name was next to impossible in human tongues, but calling you some cursed animal felt demeaning and hurtful.

“Glad to see it somewhat stuck.”

She scoffed at that.

You took a deep breath, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, one more.” She breathed, “I ran into Basia at the store the other day. She was quite frantic because she lost the key to my apartment.”

“Did she ask for another one?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Did you do it?” her voice was firm.

“Am I in trouble?” you asked, ears drooping slightly.

“Depends.” Was her only answer.

“Are you gonna yell at me?”

“Only if you did something to her.” She nearly whispered.

_Ouch_.

“I cut her key chain when she was walking back to her apartment after I caught her trying to sneak into your place after four in the morning without knocking.” You blurted in a rush, pacing back and forth.

More silence.

“Did she see you do anything?”

“No.” you answered.

“Where’s the key?” she asked.

“Destroyed. It’s an ounce of metallic powder now. I wasn’t sure what to do with- I’m sorry…”

She sighed, “I understand.”

_Damn, I should have talked to her about this sooner._

You leaned your head on the wall by the sliding glass door, “Look, I know I should’ve… At least, let me make it to you. I’ll pick you up after work and let you do my fittings for the party…” You gave her your verbal agreement to become her model doll for a night in public, hoping to cheer her up a bit, “As your friend I _am_ contractually obligated to do this after all.”

You understood taking back that key, more like stealing back, wasn’t in your jurisdiction to decide. She’d be distant for a bit. You just hoped she wouldn’t give Basia a new copy or the bloodhound didn’t already have one in the making.

“Yeah, okay.” She agreed, immediately hanging up.

You sighed, tossing the phone back on the kitchen table. Well, coming back was going to be interesting. You looked at the muddied prints that led around the kitchen area and sighed. You’d be cleaning all night. You removed and re-wrapped your tail in cotton wraps, the least amount of cleaning you had to do, the better, then headed out to deal with the deer.

**-|-**

____

Neon lights lit a quarter of the darkened space spelling: Gladius as Red sat at on a bar stool reading the limited menu board above him. Out of all the bars in the city, this was known for its specialty drinks, or so he thought. Hearsay was turning out to be lies.

He needed a stiff drink after settling everything at the mansion and beginning the next phase. Contracts and permits were still pending at City Hall, a perfect time for him to wind down with a drink, but nothing on the chalk board menu revealed anything up to his tastes. Bourbon and brandy were never his style. He preferred drinks with a spicy undertone. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he became more frustrated.

While seething in his seat of having to fold over with scotch, the door opened. Like cold water dousing a flame, Red’s growling demeanor calmed as his shoulders fell. His eye lights flashed to the door to see an averaged height human walk in, their form angelically illuminated by the setting sun before the door closed. They unzipped their jean hoodie and combed their feathered hair out of their face. (E/c) eyes searched the bar for something he could only deduce as their drinking buddies.

They made eye contact for only a second. That was enough to make his red eye lights widen from small pinpricks to medium sized orbs as a familiar jolt shot through his soul, making his soul-beat quickened as he sent signals to their soul. It didn’t react as brightly as he thought it would, but called out to his all the same.

_it’s you_…

Your soul’s song was just as beautiful as you. He turned back to the bar with a content air. His soulmate. He actually had one_ and a cute one at that. Monsters didn’t judge on gender, so he didn’t care if you were a pretty boy. Adapting was part of the process of forming a soul bond. You were, to put it simply, made for him. He’d have to play this carefully. You were a human, after all, and most likely had no idea what had just occurred in the passing seconds.

The bar stool next to him was suddenly occupied. Silence befell you both as you tapped a tune on the bar, waiting to get served. Just as he was getting used to the random melody, it stopped.

“Hey, you get your drink yet?” you asked.

His eye lights flashed to you, tracing over every detail of your face. Your layered, (H/c) feathered hair looked fluffy and smooth to the touch, like a small kitten. _His_ kitten.

He flashed you one of his easy-going smiles, “haven’t ordered yet. was told this place sold exotic drinks, _but_… have yet to see a thing.”

Your eyebrows lifted at that, eyes peeking to the side at the long wall of the alcohol.

“Well, you’re in the right place.” you shrugged, “Don’t have monster alcohol, though, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“nah, just lookin’ for something with a spicy kick.” Boy, did he need a drink.

You reached over the bar and pulled out a bottle of mustard with a plate. After pouring a bit onto it, you took a pretzel stick sitting in one of the many long cups along the bar and dipped it in. He was surprised by your actions. Most humans he’d met only used the condiment for sandwiches or ‘dogs. You held the bottle out to him, head nodding to the cup of pretzels. He gingerly took it and instead downed the rest of the bottle. He watched your reaction change from surprised to a downright smirk.

“Well, damn, Sharkface. You really like mustard don’tcha?”

A dark chuckle escaped him, “heh. that’s not my name, kid.”

His grin became slightly menacing then quickly relaxed. He could let this slide, for now.

You shrugged, taking a bite out of the pretzel, leaning on the bar with a smug look, “It is when I’ve got nothin’ to go on. Don’t you know it’s rude not to introduce yourself?”

Stars, he loved you. He kept his calm composure as he held his hand out for you to take, “red. red the skeleton.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. He bit back a laugh at how tiny your hand was in his. It was too adorable.

“(Y/N). Very nice to meet ya, Mr. Red.”

“just red’s fine.” He corrected.

You nodded, thinking something over while you let go of his hand.

“You like mustard _a lot_, right?” you asked seriously.

He hesitantly nodded at your change in demeanor.

“Good.” You smiled at him.

His soul felt like it would give out.

You called out to the bartender and ordered him a tall glass of Mustard Liqueur. Within seconds, a cold glass of yellow liquid was set in front of him. He brought the glass close to his nasal cavity and sniffed, confused look crossing his skull. The drink didn’t smell like the one Brim would make for him, but smelled good all the same. He hesitantly took a sip. With an astonished look, he quickly gulped down the rest of the glass, setting it down on the bar with a loud clink. A satisfied hum escaped him as he wiped his teeth, sending you a thankful look.

“So, what do ya think?” you asked, munching on the last of your pretzel.

“it’s good, kid, thanks. if i’d known this were here, i would’ve ordered it sooner.” He eyed the chalk board menu with disdain.

“Well, this isn’t your _average_ bar.” Your eyes followed his to stare at the menu, “That stuff’s kind of the default people expect. The rest you order by name or tell Dale the flavors you like and he’ll hook you up.” You pointed a thumb toward the bartender that was cleaning the counter top after a few patrons left, “Used to work as a bartender in Ebott and has extensive knowledge in drinks. If he wrote down every drink he knew, we’d be sitting here through next year reading.”

You checked your phone once more then quickly put it away.

“waiting on someone?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You answered, hands fidgeting with a napkin.

“girlfriend?”

Of course, you would have a partner. Complications seemed to follow him like a lost duckling.

You hummed at that and sighed, “In a sense.”

Well, that wasn’t an answer he was expecting.

“She _is_ a girl who _is_ my friend.” You looked at him from the corner of your eye with a smug grin.

He chuckled.

_Fucking smartass_.

“fair enough.” He cleared his throat, “well, I originally came here for something more punishing than that mustard liqueur. care ‘ta recommend anythin’ in that department-?” He caught himself before calling you kitten.

“With mustard in it?” You didn't seem to notice his falter.

He gave a small nod in affirmation, prompting a challenging smile his way with a gleam in your eye. And he thought his smile was wide.

“Hankering for punishment, eh?”

He liked the way your eyes squinted when you smiled.

“There is _one_ drink that many people have tried, but couldn’t handle. It’s used as a terrible dare or a simple gift to inform someone you hate. Give someone a choice between drinking this and cyanide, they’ll mostly choose cyanide.”

You called out to a few patrons to make your point and sure enough, four out of five chose cyanide.

“drink got a name?” he smirked at you, undeterred.

“We call it the Poison Dart.” You explained, taking another fresh napkin from further down the bar, “It’s a mixture of Mustard Liqueur, vodka, and wasabi paste; a trifecta that spells trouble.”

Red slightly tilted his head to the side, “wasabi?”

You frowned, “Yeah, wasabi, the sushi dip.”

He had no idea what that was. A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips as you shook your head with a low whistle.

“You’re in for a surprise if you get the Poison Dart. Wasabi will give you that spicy kick you want.”

“what does it taste like?”

“The wasabi?” you looked to him with an uneasy smile, “That isn’t easy to explain. It’s like explaining what mustard tastes like. Kind of an enigma, but…”

You blew into a napkin you had folded, revealing an origami tulip. When did you make that and how did he not notice? You stuck a strew through the bottom to make the stem and set it into one of the pretzel cups. With an exhale, you turned to him, crossing one leg over the other, arms folded. If Red didn’t know any better, he would have mistaken this for a business deal than a random bar encounter.

“Okay.” You breathed, “Humans use nerves to feel, taste, hear, and smell. It’s all electrical signals interpreted by the brain. _Wasabi_ kind of messes that up. When eating even a smidgen’s worth, you brain goes into overdrive, unable to decipher what taste wasabi’s supposed to be; sour, spicy, it has no idea. The signals get so knotted that it feels like the back of your brain is being crushed like a soda can. Then it stops, releasing through your nose as smoke.” You shrugged at your explanation, “That’s the only way I can explain it. I know our bodies are different, but maybe there’s some similarities in interpreting taste.”

Red hummed at that. He did ask for a spicy drink.

“Interested?” your little head tilt was endearing, “If you think you can handle it.”

_oh, sweetheart, you are playing with fire_. _keep challenging me like that and i don’t know what i’ll do._

You ordered two shots of the Poison Dart. _Dale_, as you called him, slid the two shot glasses in front of you.

You passed him his, clinking the glasses together. He made no move to drink his as you lifted yours to your lips. You squinted your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before you downed it. A coughing spree shook your small form as you covered your mouth.

“Shit.” You gasped, laying you head on the bar to catch your breath.

A small white hand towel was draped over your head by the bartender. You mumbled out a thanks and awkwardly pulled yourself up to tie to towel over your eyes.

“Whew!” you breathed, “I forgot how- Phew! That was… _intense_.”

Your small form gently lifted up and down as your lungs took in copious amounts of air. Red frowned as he noticed a clear liquid drop from under the towel. Were those tears?

“holy shit.” He blurted without thinking.

Eye lights looked down at the small shot glass. A faded green substance gleamed in the overhead lighting. He could smell the mustard liqueur wafting from it. The drink didn’t look threatening, but seeing how much it wrecked you…

“Try it yet?” you called out, friendly smile changing into a frown, “I know my reaction was little _much_, but it’s not as bad as it looks. Promise.”

He was speechless.

Before you could ask a question, the bartender interjected, “He left.”

Your eyebrows shot up with a surprised, “Oh.”

Red glanced his way, not exactly thankful or pissed in pity being taken on him.

Dale kept eye contact as he mixed up a drink, “Son, couldn’t take the stride.”

_Never mind, fuck this guy._

Dale gently took your hand and slid a martini glass filled with a caramel liquid in it. You thanked him, taking a wobbled sip, only to shake your head at the taste, “AMS, Dale? What the hell?”

The bartender explained it was to wash out the bad taste. You down the rest of the glass with a pained grimace, mumbling it was working. After the ordeal, you slumped back onto the bar, head resting on your palm.

“Can’t believe he actually left. Thought he could handle it.” You said solemnly as the bartender pushed another shot glass into your hand, “I heard rumors that monster alcohol was nothing compared to what we’ve got here. Just a shot can make you fall on your ass.”

Dale cleaned another glass and stacked it on a shelf with the others, “As there a truth to myths, rumors are too riddled with lies.”

Red held back a growl as the bartender eyed him with a look. If he had something to say, he should say it already. Dale’s eyes glanced at the drink then back at him, body language communicating a daring message. Red narrowed his sockets at him, daring him to try something. Unmoved by his silent threats, Dale simply went to grab the shot glass. In a flash, Red snatched the glass and downed it. He slammed it down on the counter and shoved it Dale’s way.

Red wiped his teeth, still glaring at him, only to stop and notice the flavor. It definitely had a spiced kick to it with a touch of mustard and burn of alcohol.

“Enjoy yourself, big guy?” you called out.

He looked to see you finally untied the towel from your face, wiping it down and handing it to Dale who quickly tossed it in a laundry bin.

You easily read his face with a smirk, “You know, you should really give humans a little more credit. We can easily tell when someone’s sitting next to us. Plus, even with the amount of work Dale gives this place, the twenty-year-old stools still creak.”

His menacing grin was back, eye lights extinguished. So, you were playing him, like some joke?

“the entire time.” He said silently.

“How else was I supposed to get you to step up.” You tilted your head back as you downed your multicolored shot, “You just went down in bar history.”

His smile relaxed some, eye lights still absent, “and the drink?”

“Still has the reputation of bringing men to their knees.” You sent him a confident smile while tapping on the counter top, “Gonna be honest, I didn’t expect you to chicken out earlier, but at least you found a new flavored drink you can call your own.”

His shoulders sunk while resting his head on his arms, eye lights returning, “could’ve just asked me to drink it.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” you snorted.

Shortly after, he got to talking with you. With every sentence he chipped away at your walls and brought out a charismatic side as you told him stories of stupid acts you did with some of your friends before coming to the city. The way you gestured and acted out your memories with sound effects, even grabbing him by the coat to emphasize how dire the situation was. He admired your youthful personality; the way you smiled and laughed or how your feathered hair draped over your (E/c) eyes during one of your enigmatic scenes. You were as innocent as a kitten, though with a few claws.

“And the car actually exploded like a goddamn action movie. And we’re just watching it like kids looking at fireworks.” You wiggled your fingers to emphasize the explosions, “And I’m like, ‘Marv, MARV, we have to go, now!’”

“so, how’d you guys get out?” he asked.

“I don’t know. We jumped the fence and… I woke up at home.”

“that’s it?” he chuckled, “some ending. you need better material.”

“Oh, well _excuse_ me for not having some action-packed ending with Arnold Schwarzenegger holding a shotgun yelling, ‘I’ll be back.’” You lightly punched his arm, “If you’ve got something better, tell me.” He shook his head as you shook his arm, “Come on, let’s hear it.”

He pondered for a moment, eye lights flashing to you, “i’ve got a few i’d be willing to share.”

You lifted your eyebrows profusely at him as you coxed, “And…? Come on, don’t leave me hangin’.”

“and i’d be willing to share them… over dinner.” He sent you a wink.

_What do ya say, kitten_?

____

You didn’t expect to be having fun at Gladius while you waited for Robin. You’d usually just sit at the bar and wait while she finished getting her paycheck and discussed next week’s schedule with her boss.

Instead, you found happy times with a skeleton. You almost felt a little bad for tricking him into drinking the Poison Dart. _Almost_. He did say he was looking for punishment. It all turned out fine since he found his new favorite drink, even ordering a full glass of it. At first, he seemed a little disconcerting, the way his eyes stared intently at you like a predator eyeing its meal. You forced down your uncomfortable feelings, seeing it as a bigoted part judging him for being different.

Red was not what you expected. He was a cool, debonair of a skeleton. His suit, though smooth and black with a red dress shirt and cuff-links, had a gruff exterior to it like a rebelled mobster. All he was missing was a fedora hat to complete the look. Going by the skeletons you’d met before, he was different. Sans was easygoing, but he held a dangerous air to him like someone who demands respect and is ready to bring down a hammer of judgment to those who cross him. You were curious if anyone had been brave enough to tell him no. If you were being honest, that confidence kind of scared you. And Mr. Black… no words could describe how you felt about him. Well, maybe a few. He was an arrogant ass with a princely demeanor that demanded perfection where it did not need to be given. The only thing keeping you from punching him straight in the mandible was Robin’s dream. His companion was a big question mark as he didn’t say much but stared intently you. A bit uncomfortable, to be stared at, but he didn’t do anything either. Meeting Red was like opening a window in a smoker’s den.

This was a fine way to start off your arrival back in town. You both talked and laughed as you told him stories of your past, albeit withholding important bits like the fact they were held in 1942. You let your guard down a bit, showing him your dramatic side as you acted out parts like a child. It was a cool evening with drinks and hardy jokes, but came crashing down once he asked you to dinner.

Cue the record ripping sound. He wasn’t the first skeleton to ask this of you. The previous given a rain-check, not wanting to seem rude. You mulled over the past twenty minutes for a sign, some sort of signal to why he’d ask you this. You couldn’t find a thing. This was your every day of the mill “drinking buddies meeting to watch the game” type of environment.

You gently shook your head with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, uh… I’m still waiting for someone.”

You could see his smile fall from the corner of your eye as you chose to fold another napkin into a flower, air growing colder the longer your looked away.

“**why**?” his voice had dropped a few decibels but still reverberated through the counter top and bar stools.

You dropped the half-done tulip at the sound and hesitantly looked to see him leaning a foot away from you with eye sockets as dark as a black hole.

“Look, don’t take it the wrong way.” You tried to appease, leaning away from him.

The way he tilted his skull with that look unnerved you, “**and how should I take it**?”

You took a deep breath and shirked off your uneasiness to look him straight in the sockets. You were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but if he tried anything…

“Listen I’m just not interested in-”

A slam on the counter made you jump. You looked away from the menacing skeleton to see _another_ one had slammed his keys on the counter. It was the silent giant, from the meeting with Mr. Black. He stood in his expensive black and burnt orange suit with a hand tucked in his slack’s pocket.

“hey, red.”

“Oh, it’s you?” you faintly waved.

His eyes stared intently at you like he was measuring the situation then took a seat on the stool beside you, long legs stretched comically passed you. If the situation were different, you would have laughed.

“you know this guy?” Red growled, warm breath blowing on your side.

“Uh, yeah.” You starting fidgeting with the tulip again, “He was with Mr. Black when my friend and I were meeting up to discuss some of her designs. You’re actually the fourth skeleton I’ve met this month.”

You watched him react from the corner of your eye. Empty sockets and thin smile stared back at you. If you could describe his expression as a sound, it would be shattered glass.

“That reminds me.” You took your chance to change the subject, turning to other skeleton whose sharp fangs had slightly lifted at the corners to form a smirk, “Uhm, I never got your name.”

He watched you for a moment, smile disappearing. His small eye lights grew slightly as they scanned over you.

“rus.” He didn’t offer a hand to you.

You awkwardly nodded, “(Y/N)”

“what’re ya doing here, mutt?” Red growled, placing a large hand over your shoulder and arm.

Rus shrugged, “heard the food was great, so i ordered something to go.”

You turned to call Dale only to see the double doors to the kitchen close and deflated in defeat as your one bout of saving grace was gone.

“heard the drinks were good too. got any recommendations?” he asked you, ignoring Red.

“Uhm,” you gently removed Red’s hand from your shoulder.

It slipped down your side before pulling away.

_Okay, this officially a bad touch zone, _your mind screamed.

“D-depends on what flavors you like.” You said, struggling to keep your composure.

The next person to touch you without consent was going to lose an arm.

“barbecue sauce, doll face.” Was his only answer.

You stopped, eyes blinking as your mind to a moment to understand.

_Doll face_?

You asked for clarification, ignoring his nickname, “Do you mean, you _want _barbecue sauce in your drink or you want something tangy and spicy?”

He shrugged.

You racked your brain for drinks, “Uhm, there’s a _Whiskey Hot and Sour_, _Spicy Peach Tequila_, and a _Whiskey Ember_, but… it might not be to your liking so you should ask Dale when he comes back with your order. Just tell him the flavors your like and he’ll spruce up something for ya.”

He hummed at that, eyes looking over at Red.

Something from their silent conversation caused Red to growl, _actually_ growl.

_Now, would be a perfect time to leave_.

“but i’m asking you.” His stare weighed dominance with a demanding aura.

Something clicked. You were nearly at your limit, eyes countering his stare with your own. His bone brows lifted slightly in surprised curiosity.

“That isn’t part of my job description.” You answered, eyes narrowing.

“and what _is_ in your job description?” he leaned closer, accepting your challenging tone.

“Mechanics.” You stiffened, suddenly feeling cornered.

“careful, mutt, you’re scaring the kid.” That didn’t have a drop of concern.

Why did you get the feeling you were being played with like a mouse between two cats?

“speak for yourself.” Rus countered.

You felt uncomfortable between the two as they stared each other down. Clearly, silent threats were being made and you had no intention getting involved in _whatever_ rivalry they held.

“What is going here?” a familiar voice interrupted the drums of war.

You turned around to see Robin eyeing both skeletons with a dark glare. Your savior had finally come. You jumped off the stool, over Rus’ legs, and stood next to her with a thankful smile. She pulled you toward the door, still keeping an eye on the skeletons.

“Are you okay?” she asked, eye brows furrowing in concern, “The way they were leaning over you was like two wolves about to fight over a bunny-”

You pulled her into a hug, not caring you were nuzzling her cheek and purring.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

She patted your back and pulled away to open the door, leading you out to leave the predators behind in your wake. You walked down the street, toward the bus stop, silent.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked once more.

“Yeah.” You breathed, “Just… peachy.”

_If you hadn’t come along when you did_…

You sighed. Everything could’ve changed back there. If it escalated anymore you probably would have done something you would have regret or set yourself up to be outed. Even after a week in solitude, your instincts were quick to rattle the cage it was in simply because of two punks and their personal issues. These skeletons were dangerous. Red made that very clear today. If you were to meet again, you hoped he kept himself in check.

_Or I’ll put him in check myself,_ a part of you growled.

“Good.” Robin’s punch in your side brought you out of your thoughts, “because a deal’s a deal.”

“I know, I know.” You laughed, dodging her next punch.

“You owe me Lois Lane.” She joked.

“T’s fine. I brought tribute.” You pulled out a bag of deer jerky from your hoodie’s pocket and passed it to her.

She hummed at the sandwich-bagged treasure, opening it to pop a meat strip in her mouth, “Tribute accepted.”

You both sat the bus stop as she snacked on the meaty treats.

“By the way. What happened to your old hoodie?” she pulled at the sleeves of your jean one.

You put your hands in its pockets, leaning back, “Bambi’s father sort of bled all over it.”

She stopped mid-chew as she stared back at you with wide eyes.

Her eyes flashed to your hair, “Oh my god your hair grew! It’s almost to your shoulders now. You have to let me cut it again.” She combed her fingers through it then began messing it up, “And it’s so fluffy!”

“Okay, calm down.” You laughed nervously as she stood on the seat by her knees and hugged your head.

“Can’t_ deny_ the floof!” she nuzzled your hair, earning a blush from you.

“C-cut it out. The bus is coming!”

She let you go as the vehicle stopped in front of the bus stop. You entered and took your seats. Robin leaned on you, still snacking on the jerky.

“The fuck was that back there?” you asked lowly.

“Can’t always be the one to act like a dork.” She shrugged, “Feel better?”

You smirked and draped your arm over her shoulder, “Yeah.”

_I’ll be fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, in case anyone asks, Brim is Grillby from Underfell.  
Gonna be honest, I'm impatient to get the story going and merged what I had planned for two chaps into one.  
Also... a lot of you guys were asking similar questions in the comments, so I decided to add Mutt's (Rus) POV instead of Edge's. I think it helped bridge more gaps that the story has in terms of world mechanics such as souls and soul-beats.  
If something isn't clear in the chapter, feel free to comment on it. It's a lot longer than usual, so I might have missed something while editing.  
I do hope the trip and getting some hints to what kind of demon the reader is wasn't a let down to some of you.  
I honestly can't wait until her background is discovered. It's just taking longer than expected to get there.  
We'll finally get to the skells' party by chapter 5. Yay!  
And then the fun begins... _Heh, heh, heh. Ha, ha-ha, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA_\- it's funny.  
Hope it was at least a fun read. Still added some scenes in between, hope ya don't mind. If it feels too long, I apologize. *bows*  
Have an awesome nice day/night/evening/morning everyone~!  
P.S. I haves a Tumblr now: [Check It Out!](https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com)


	4. Model Dandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You visit the skeletons' mansion for the first time, meeting yet another one of the unbridled bone monsters. A deep secret is unraveled and promises are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-six pages. It's only a matter of time before I can't post an entire chapter for being too long.  
Sorry about the length. I had some leftover info I didn't get to fit in the previous chap, so I added here.  
I would have had this chapter out sooner if the editing didn't fight me for three days (Focus deprivation sucks).  
Again, thank you so much for all the kudos. You guys of the best of the best awesome people~  
I hope reading this small book of chapter doesn't deter you from continuing to read.
> 
> (Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(H/c) - Hair color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- - Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change  
_*_*_ - Flashback

Clouds gathered on the horizon blocking the last of the sun’s rays like a shrouded wall, quickening the evening’s metamorphosis into night. Humans scurried along the sidewalks, clinging to winter coats and scarves in desperation to stay warm during their trek home.

You clocked out of your shift for the day with a content air around you. Today had been peaceful; filled with oil changes and tire rotations, simple work. Your current work week only consisted of one day since your return. Next week held early morning shifts at the factory alongside a promissory from Gavin of booked back to back car tune ups. Not only did you have a six-hour shift of machine maintenance and paper work to look forward to, but four hours of replacing heating systems. Your personal hell awaited at seven o’ clock sharp, starting Monday.

Eager to leave, you grabbed your hoodie from your locker and headed toward the front of the factory’s office, only to be stopped by Kaliel and Royce leaning against the doorway at the end of the hall.

“There’s a sheriff here to see ya.” Royce drawled, nibbling on an unlit cigarette.

“What, why?” You tried to look past his tall form.

Kaliel crossed his arms to obstruct your vision of the office, “Didn’t say, but I will give you a heads up, she’s extremely vicious.”

“Haven’t seen lions bite off someone’s head like that.” Royce sighed, shaking his head, “So we’ll do ya a favor and give advice.”

“Seriously?” you watched them both as you racked your brain for any sort of crime you might have committed in the past twenty-four hours.

“Firstly, don’t answer in ‘yeahs’, just say ‘yes, ma’am’ to any question.” Kaliel began, “And keep direct eye contact. It’s best not to show any form of weakness.”

“Better yet, ask her to marry you. It stumps them.” Royce added.

“Nah, doesn’t work if he doesn’t have a ring. She’ll just question further and all hell will break loose.” Kaliel corrected.

“Wait, what?” you screeched, eyes flashing between the two as they continued.

“Dude’s practically on death row though.” Royce concluded, “Should we sneak some flowers? Chicks usually love the gesture of that shit.”

“Can we stop for a second to explain to me what the hell is going on?” you hissed a whisper, “And why the hell are you asking me to marry a cop-?” You paused with a still-faced stare as realization hit you like a brick.

“Aw, man. You should’ve called her a warren. Would’ve made death row funnier.” Royce grinned, watching your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, pushing past them.

“Heard sheet-pan chicken’s great for a last meal.” Kaliel called after you, only to receive your middle finger over your shoulder to flip them off.

You slowed to a snail’s pace at the sound of Tin humming “_Chopin’s Death March_” from atop the front desk with his hood veiled over him like a messenger of death. He simply pointed toward the door where Robin and Gavin were chatting.

“Better kick your ass into high gear. She’s been looking at her phone nonstop for the past ten minutes.” He joked.

If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under right now.

You grit your teeth with a groan. You’d forgetten today you were supposed to head over to the skeleton monsters’ mansion for “modelling tips”. Looks like you had to take a trip to Tartarus before returning to hell on Monday.

_And today was going so well... Of course, there’d be something_, your thoughts grimaced.

“Don’t forget; grovel, apologize, and may she have mercy on your soul.” He gave an exaggerated evil laugh, “Also, would you be willing to sign this waver allowing your body to be used for science?”

You shook your head, silently building up the courage to approach where Robin and Gavin were chatting. Would it be wrong to secretly leave out back?

_No, Royce and Kaliel would stop me. Not to mention, Tin’s practically an alarm incarnate._

“How about a choice in tombstone?” Tin urged.

You approached the two while Tin recovered from his _incidental_ fall from the front desk. Gavin was currently having a quaint conversation, in his own way, concerning punctuality while Robin sneered sarcastically at his funny remarks. As soon as her eyes turned to you, her smile instantly fell.

“What are you wearing?” she asked, pulling at your shirt.

“Oh, this?” you looked down at the oil stained shirt, “A Jeep’s oil pan had some built up pressure and sprayed me all over. My coveralls are much worse. Nothing to worry about, though. It’ll wash out, eventually.”

An array of expressions flashed on Robin’s face at the speed of light as she gestured with numb confusion around her. Gavin cleared his throat, shaking his head, while casting you a side glance.

Finally regaining her composure, she responded in nearly a whisper, “You are visiting a mansion… where a high-class designer, who offered to give you modelling tips, lives… and you’re not even going to wear a clean shirt?”

“…Yes?” you answered in confusion.

The sound of a face-palm filled the awkward silence of the room.

“And the award for most clueless human goes to…” you heard Tin say under his breath.

“What?” you shrugged, “I just got off work and am going for lessons on walking, not dressing. I’m only going to be there for an hour anyway then head home.”

That was the original plan; go in, get a few pointers about modelling, and quickly leave. You didn’t want to spend any more time than you had to in that part of the city. There was just something about the atmosphere of the higher-end parts that didn’t sit well with you. As for Mr. Black… Honestly, you couldn’t care less when it came to his opinion. You were gracing him with _your _time, not the other way around. If he couldn’t handle your attire after a hard day’s work then he wasn’t worth your time. Just the thought of dealing with his arrogance was starting to give you a headache. His judgement meant nothing to you, but from Robin’s stressed look, it was a means of life or death.

_Designers…_

You eventually caved under her scrutinizing stare, “Fine, I’ll change when I get home-”

“No time. You were supposed to be off work an hour ago.” She glared at Gavin from the corner of her eye as he whistled nonchalantly, “If we catch the next bus, I’ll only be fifteen minutes late.”

You breathed, accepting you fate, “Okay, I have an extra shirt in my locker” Robin sighed in relief upon hearing this, “but it’s more work related than _mansion visit_.”

“That’s fine.” She nodded, “Just, please, hurry.”

Suddenly it felt like everyone in the room could breathe again. Gavin gave your shoulder a praising pat and ruffled your hair while the guys relaxed and began gathering their things to head out.

_Did I missing something_?

You gave each man a confused look, hoping one would explain himself, before heading back toward the lockers.

You slipped off your stained shirt and put on a grey one labelled: **Keep on Creepin’**, with a black silhouette of Mr. Hyde looming over the words. It still held stains of past oil spills, albeit faded since being washed, but it would have to do since you weren’t given the option of stopping at home to freshen up. Upon returning, Robin seemed pleased with the effort of the clean shirt. You slumped on your jean hoodie and set out toward the bus stop.

**-|-**

You dreaded every step taken after entering the godforsaken, gated community. Houses the size of small schools stood high above with obvious differences, reflecting their owners’ likenesses. Even with the cleanliness of the streets, the air still felt defiled and uncomfortable as you trekked along to certain doom.

You knew not all of the top percent flaunted their money wildly, but after travelling through the beginnings of the neighborhood, it was apparent this side of town held true to rich stereotypes. By the time you made it up the hill, four men had already asked Robin how much she’d be for one night and you both were nearly run over by a Porsche with two prissy women, wearing the skimpiest clothes you’d ever seen, complaining about the cold weather as they backed out of their driveway like lunatics, speeding off to stars know where. After weaving through a few more streets and witnessing the epitome of bad choices, you finally reached the skeleton’s mansion.

Far away, the place looked like a quaint four-story house, fitting nicely alongside the other rich houses. However, upon approach, you found it was the largest mansion in the entire neighborhood. It had a driveway the size of a parking lot with the building itself having multiple wings that stretched beyond the trees behind it. The closer you got the more you felt like you’d jumped into “_Jack and the Beanstalk_”. The front double doors towered over you like giant obelisks with their handles barely reaching passed your neck. Your eyes met Robin’s, silently questioning how to proceed as the doorbell was too high for even your height to reach. Should you knock or punch the door to symbolize your arrival? You were leaning toward a hard punch, surmising a petty knock from your hand would sound like a pebble hitting the door. Before a decision could be made, the doors swung open to a crowd of monsters leaving. From what you could tell from their labelled work clothes, they were movers from Ebott. You quickly grabbed Robin by the wrist and pulled her away from the avalanche of steps. Once the majority had left, you pulled her along to slip past the door before it could close.

The place actually looked bigger on the inside than out, if that was possible. The lobby was the size of a tennis court with doorways leading to a lounge and dining room, from what you could see. The tables had turned with everything that was had been waist height or lower in the city were now just below chest level with you. From the size of the chairs, you’d have to climb them like a toddler just to sit down. Stairs on both sides of the entry way looked like a modified version of the “999 Steps to Heaven” as they curved between levels. Your hand clenched around Robin’s. This was… intimidating. You knew monsters were bigger than humans, but this was ridiculous. There was no way the city could be changed to accommodate a population of colossal beings such as these. While gawking at the layout, a human woman entered from the center doorway connecting to the entryway with a clipboard in hand. She stopped, high heels screeching to a halt, as she looked you both over.

With a peppy voice and fake smile, she greeted the both of you, “Welcome to the Serif residence. Might I ask what your business here is?”

“Uhm, rehearsals…” Robin answered shyly, “Sorry we’re a little late. No one was answering the door.”

_Nice save_, you lightly squeezed her hand.

The woman adjusted her glasses before consulting her clip board, “Yes, there was talk about a missing performer…” Her finger gently grazed the paper as she read over something, “Ms. Robin, I presume?”

“Yes…” Robin answered.

The woman’s eyes flashed to you, “And you are?”

You gave her a straightforward answer, “I have an _appointment_ with Mr. Black.”

Her shocked expression seemed to loosen her glasses to a slight crooked state, eyes looking over your appearance. It took a few seconds for her to come back to reality. With the clearing of her throat, she straightened her posture and flattened some nonexistent wrinkles in her black skirt.

“A-and your name?” she asked pushing up her glasses.

“(Y/N)”

Once again, she gave you that shocked look in mild disbelief. Did she need your I.D. or something?

“W-well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. (Y/N). I have heard many good things concerning your modelling career.” She held out her hand to you.

You lifted an eyebrow at that, looking to Robin for clarification. She was just as lost as you were, sending a shrug your way with a confused look.

With furrowed eyebrows, you took the lady’s hand, “Uh… thanks?”

She gave your hand a firm shake, “I see you are here for modification treatment.”

You paused at that, “Excuse me?”

“Your attire. Mr. Black said you dress abysmally before modelling any type of clothing.” She explained.

You crossed your arms while leaning on a leg and sent Robin a look, “Did he now?”

Robin frantically shook her head while holding her hands up in appeasement, silently mouthing she was innocent.

“I am sorry to say,” the woman continued, “that Mr. Black is out for the moment. Might I ask you to wait here until he returns?”

And the man of the hour wasn’t even here. Your anger, though minimal, was enough reason for you to take your leave. This guy spreads lies about you then flakes?

_Yeah, no. I’m leaving._

You were about to tell the woman to send a few words to her boss when Robin stepped forward with a worried look. Those puppy dog eyes cut deep into your unruly annoyance and stilled your growing anger.

_A deal’s a deal, and demons always kept their deals. _

You rolled your eyes at your steadfast morals and nodded at the woman, “Yeah, sure.”

“Wonderful. Again, I am sorry for the inconvenience.” She apologized.

_I’m sure you are…_

She and Robin both smiled your way; one fake, the other endearing.

Crashes and yells echoing from a room suddenly interrupted whatever moment you were having. Screamed complaints echoed along the walls with a volume as high as a graveled megaphone. You were thankful that the doors were closed or else your ear drums might have burst. The woman’s expression quickly changed into a nervous one as she began hurrying Robin along.

“What was that?” you asked, snapping your fingers next your ear as a test to hearing.

The yelling in the other room increased, cutting off the woman’s response. With a sigh, she apologized again for your wait, then led Robin to the shouting room. You leaned against a chair and wished Robin good luck before she disappeared behind one of the gargantuan doors. The screaming in the next room seemed to die down a bit, only erupting at a semi loud level. You were sure anyone who could hear sighed in gratitude.

It didn’t take long for ten minutes to pass as you waited for King Pompous to arrive. As someone used to always having something to do, you quickly became bored. You sighed, looking up at the tall walls that was riddled with portraits of bones. Odd for you, but made sense for a house of skeletons.

You grumbled in the slight silence as you continued to wait, hoping someone would come through the door to satisfy your boredom. Fate, being a cruel bitch, answered you with a stampede of monster movers storming through the double front doors with more furniture.

____

Sans yawned as he exited his office. He had just spent two days in Ebott taking care of a rat problem. Most had been dealt with except for two that fled to nearby cities. It was sloppy that they managed to sneak under his watch; being distracted over his soulmate was no excuse. For now, he had an expense report to complete for his hire to cover. By the time he’d finish, his brother will have tracked down and taken care of the stragglers.

He set for raiding the kitchen fridge for a couple bottles of ketchup before getting back to work. What he didn’t expect to see from the first-floor landing was his soulmate ducking around movers left and right. He leaned against the stair rails as he watched you scurry around like a little mouse to find refuge away from the crowd that seemed to pay your no mind to your small form. He couldn’t blame them for not watching where they were going. Edge had been on everyone’s case to get all the furniture in and placed by nightfall.

You seemed to finally find a space against the wall between two entryway tables. While catching your breath, you pushed your back against the wall as much as possible to keep out of the movers’ way. At that, Sans finally took pity on you, shortcutting beside the table. The movers instantly noticed him, quickly adjusting to go around. He wondered why you were left here alone, unattended, to begin with.

_didn’t Edge hire a secretary to manage guests until the party?_

He watched your little chest expand and contract at a fast pace. How long had you been running around the room?

“heya, kid.” He greeted with a warm smile, “you okay?”

You shakily mumbled something, “…too much.”

“come again?” he took a knee next to you.

From what he could tell, your head lacked any bruises. He gently took your arms to check for injuries, relieved to find none.

With a quick intake of air, you answered, “Rich people are too much.”

Sans took a moment to comprehend your words.

“…sorry?” was the only thing he could muster in his confusion, “care ‘ta explain why?”

“Why…” you rested the back of your head against the wall to stare up at the ceiling, “Why…? I’ll tell you why. My friend was called a hooker four times on our walk here, we nearly got ran over by a couple of slutty dimwits, witnessed countless acts of poor judgement that I couldn’t even tell a psychiatrist, and I recently just re-enacted the wildebeest scene from _‘The Lion King_’ with giant movers bringing in copious amounts of furniture…!” You slid down the wall and sat crossed legged with a huge sigh, “I mean, why are you still moving furniture? You’ve been here for over a month.”

Your frustrated pout reminded him of Frisk’s when they were having a hard time learning a new trade to the _family business_. Even in your exasperated state, you still looked endearing in his sockets. With a sigh, he positioned himself to sit beside you in front of one of the side tables.

“heh, we do have a lot of furniture. almost as much as four households.” He chuckled at the inside joke.

“Ah, crap,” you ran a hand down your face, “I’m sorry. It’s just… My day was going so well until we had to come here and everything that’s happened in the past hour-”

“has been one hell of an evening.” He finished for you.

“Yeah.” You croaked, leaning on him.

He stiffened at the act, his soul beating faster than a humming bird. In moments, his body gratefully relaxed at the contact. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his lap, or put his arm around you, at least.

“Sorry for complaining about your furniture. They’re probably great, the best of the best with expensive brand names that I probably couldn’t even pronounce.”

Sans snorted at that, “wanna give it a try?”

He pointed at a coffee table and begin pronouncing it slowly by syllable. Your body shook against his arm as you laugh softly.

“Oh, thank you sir. I _chair_ish the opportunity to learn new words.”

He smiled at the sight of you in higher spirits, “heh, stick with me, kid. i know all the _mattress_ of furniture. ask me about anything and i’ll _desk_cribe it to you.” His grin widened at you with a playful challenge.

“Oh, so, you’re an all-time _Lazy Boy_, huh?” you lifted an eyebrow.

“you _bedder _believe it.” He winked.

You laughed into his sleeve, “Walked right into that one.”

“nice to see you _chair_ed up _seat_-heart.” He cherished your laughter.

“_Sofa_ so good.” You smiled, standing up to dust off your pants, “Thanks, I needed that.”

“so, what’re you doing here, kid?” Sans asked, choosing to remain seated on the floor.

“Robin had rehearsals today and I… was roped into meeting with Mr. Black for ‘modelling tips’.”

He was happy you hadn’t turned around to see his dark expression. Black had gotten a leg ahead of all of them by inviting you over; to do something involving your body, no less. He only hoped the black tyrant didn’t try anything so soon. This was a delicate matter, after all. You had no idea about your soul’s bond with all of them. Not to mention only half of the household knew of your existence. If told at the wrong time, you could very much flee, forcing them to take more _drastic_ measures in claiming you.

“oh, really.” He answered lowly, brightening his expression so you’d be none the wiser to his thoughts.

You scoffed, “Yup. Came over to find he was out. Imagine my surprise when someone called me a well-known model and asked me to wait here for him to get back.”

Sans held in his snort toward your last statement. He had heard Black mouthing off about a new model he planned to make his muse, but paid it no mind, usually blocking out most of those loud conversations unless it involved his brother. Frankly, the only reason he’d choose to be around their loud meetings was to keep the peace in case a fight broke out between Edge and his brother or… Edge and Black. Their brothers would instead fight alongside them rather than hold them back, leaving Sans to cut in like a referee. As exhausting as it was, it cut back expenses on new windows and furniture exponentially. If only he were so lucky when they were in the kitchen.

_speaking of which…_

Sans stood up, straightening his dress shirt, then turned to his little soulmate now leaning against a table more than half their height, finding the sight comical. Humans, with nuclear fission’s worth of magic in their souls were compact sized compared to an average sized monster like himself.

“listen, kid, I’d love to stay and chat, but i’ve got a _skele-_ton of paperwork to attend to. and as much as i hate to do it, i gotta.” He sent you one of his calm smiles.

“Yeah, thanks for keeping me company. Hopefully, Mr. Black shows up before Robin’s rehearsals are over.” You said, shoving your hands in your hoodie’s pockets.

“actually, I don’t feel this is the best place to wait for Ol’ Blackberry. so, how’s about I drop you off at his small studio upstairs and you wait there? sound good, starlight?” He winked, internally screaming at the incidental slip.

_do you hate the nickname or like it? was it even okay to call you that this soon?_ He gauged your reaction for silent answers.

You looked at him calmly with a shrug, “Okay. It’s better than dodging movers, I guess.”

Stars he loved you. He gave a slight nod, smile widening with a small chuckle.

“be back in a sec.” he winked, taking a shortcut to the fridge to grab a few bottles of ketchup.

You had been looking left and right for him, jumping a few feet in the air when he reappeared. He laughed, explaining it was a shortcut. Before you could find a proper retort, he picked you up like a child with his arm seating your rear above his waist.

“okay, kid, whatever you do, don’t hold your breath. next stop, black’s studio.” He adjusted you in his arm before teleporting.

At the last minute, you called out for him to wait. Too late, however, instead of shortcutting to Black’s designer room, he only appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“forget somethin’?” he questioned.

“N-no…” Your small form shook as you clenched onto his shirt, “Please don’t do that again.”

Before he could ask if you wanted to be put down, you rested your head on his shoulder, trying to slow your breathing. Instead he decided to carry you to the studio. It gave him more time with you, anyhow; a few minutes of escorting his soulmate wouldn’t take too much time away from his expense reports.

You apologized which he quickly waved off, explaining everyone has a hard time during their first shortcut. It was clear you had questions, but had no intent on asking them. He let you be, instead focused on your relaxed state. Your body was so warm against his. His arm that cradled you, held you as close as possible without you feeling uncomfortable as his index finger gently traced small circles on your side, adjusting you so you wouldn’t notice. You seemed curious of the house as your head was constantly in motion, watching the scenery as it passed by. Every movement made your soft hair brush against his cheekbone. It took every bit of control for him not to nuzzle into your (H/c), feathered locks. He traveled down a long hall toward another set of stairs, only to stop with a stupefying realization. He was on the second floor, about to travel up to the third… toward his room.

_what the hell am I doing?_

He shakily apologized with a pun on getting turned around and set back the way he came, turning down another hall and setting you down in front of the studio door. That was close. What would he have done once he got your there?

“this is the place.” Sans said, ignoring his drooling thoughts.

“Oh, thanks.” You rubbed your shoulder with a sullen frown, “Sorry being a baby on ya. I usually don’t-”

Sans lifted his hand to stop you, “don't mention it. you’re just out of your element.”

You scoffed at that with a small smile creeping on your face, “One of the many understatements of this century, Mr. Skele-man.”

____

You were embarrassed you had lied on a stranger’s shoulder let alone allowed them to carry you to a room, away from stampedes of movers. But Sans was surprisingly comfortable. Once he set you down, you had to expel the growing disappointment of losing your comfy spot.

He’d surprised you with a more relaxed demeanor than that demanding stare at the bar. For once, you actually felt slightly comfortable around him. He seemed like a nice guy once you got past the prideful air around him. He seemed to call you _kid_ a lot which unnerved you a bit. An amused hum escaped as you wondered what expression he’d take if you told him your real age. As for the _Starlight_ nickname, he seemed pretty nervous with the incidental slip up. You took mercy on him and simply ignored it, only answering the question he asked.

You reached up for the handle and gently turned it to open the door. The inside was dark with muddled shadows.

_Like that dark place Sans walked you through._

You shivered at the memory. Whatever that place was, it felt like a hopeless maze full of suffering. You remembered blobbed faces with fireflies for eyes watching you both as Sans strolled through without a care in the world. You hoped it was just a trick of your imagination.

The flick of the light switch, with the help of Sans’ height, brought the room to life. Silhouettes that brought on the fearful memories turned out to be mannequins of differing sizes huddled in the corner. Boxes stacked against the wall closest to the door. You relaxed at the sight and began entering the large room.

“hey,” you turned to see Sans leaning over you, arm resting against the outer doorway, “about that raincheck… i’d like to cash it in.”

You blinked as your brain caught up to you, having forgotten you’d promised to join him for dinner.

_Crap_.

“When?” you didn’t care to hide your shocked expression.

“considering how chaotic it is now, i’d say… sometime after the party.” He titled his skull to the side, eye lights looking you over, “what type of food do you like?”

“Uhm…” you were at a loss for words that he actually asked, but began listing off different foods by your fingers, “Asian food’s good. Curry fried rice and Paht See-Iw are my favorites. I also like Italian. Shrimp Scampi’s nice and Fettuccine Alfredo, too.”

You remembered the Italian place that used to be one bus ride toward the center of the city. The food was expensive, but worth every penny. Every few weeks, you budgeted your paychecks to save up for a meal there. The price for a dish of Fettuccine Alfredo ranged from seventeen to twenty-one dollars, depending on the vegetables and choice of meat you added. But it was worth it. One bowl would last up to two meals. Sadly, the owner moved to Ebott once his restaurant reached a higher level of popularity. That place was nice, but expensive. There was no way you’d allow a stranger to spend a bunch of money on a simple meal just for you.

“I…” you finally looked away from his confused expression, “I like lots of different foods, burgers and fries included. But the food really doesn’t matter as long as I have a good time. Get me?”

You peaked to see the gears turning in his skull only to have his smile widen at you with brighter eye lights. From the look of his expression before, he looked a bit confused and almost angry as if saying no would throw him off the edge.

_Spoke too soon, the prideful king is back_.

His confidence was nearly suffocating as he eyed you like a prize, even rubbing at a lock of your hair between his fingers before tucking it behind your ear. You swore you heard a purr pattering in his chest. He sighed, blowing warm air on you, jolting your person to lean away. He seemed content with that reaction, standing up straight and walking down the hall with a wave.

“i’ll send you the date.” He said before disappearing.

As soon as he was gone, you ducked into the room, slamming the door shut, and leaning onto it to catch your breath.

_Send me the date? Does he know where I live?_

Your mind tentatively skimmed through the past three minutes, veering mostly at the memory of his dark, impatient expression before you complied with his request to dinner.

_What would have happened if I said no?_

Your thoughts flashed to Red and began comparing the two skeletons together. Both held themselves in high stature with one being gruffer in appearance than the other. Red seemed to be a little more down to earth, a nice guy to talk to, while Sans only seemed to open up behind the closed doors of his house, with an endearingly wide smile and never-ending array of puns. But he was just as dangerous as Red; demanding, but with better control over his impulses, only breaking away his masked smile when pushed to his limits. You would have to keep an eye on those two the next time you’d meet. The thought of the party seemed to dull your spirits more with each new problematic domino arising in its midst. But you could drop your problems for now in the silence and worry about them later.

You finally stood up to walk around the large room as you began your fall into boredom waiting once more for Mr. Black to arrive. With a breathy sigh, your fingers grazed over the edges of the packed boxes, reading over the labels. You concentrated your hearing to get a sound of a beat or song during your questionably long wait, only to freeze when nothing, not even that graveled yelling, reached your ears.

Your ears twitched to find anything, wishing for the sound of a pin drop. You spotted a marker sitting on one of the boxes and tossed it on the floor. It clattered almost too loudly as it collided with the smooth, oak floor.

_Well, I haven’t gone deaf… So, what’s going on here?_

To answer your question, the lights suddenly turned off. As soon as you sensed a presence, an invisible force threw you against the wall.

____

Rus waited patiently for Sans to leave, showing no signs of awareness toward his presence. He watched you relax from no doubt dealing with his brother’s lazy clone’s dominant aura. Your shoulders sunk as you began traversing the room in curiosity. He then took that chance to spread his magic over the door and walls, soundproofing the room to keep any sound from leaving. It didn’t take long for you to notice the lack of noise, throwing a marker on the floor to test your theories. Just as you began to feel you might not be alone in the room, he sent a wave of his magic to grasp onto your soul and send you flying onto the closest wall. A choked gasped escaped you upon collision, eyes blinking profusely as you tried to ascertain the situation.

He appeared before you, clawed phalanges circling around your neck and digging into the top of your shoulders. You barely gripped onto his arm, trying to push it away. You were strong, but not strong enough to thwart him. He picked you up by the neck and slammed your head into the wall leaving a small dent. Your hands dropped numbly from his arm with a disoriented look. Perhaps, he might have overdone it, but he needed answers.

“what are you?” he growled.

“What…?” Your eyes crossed as your head lulled from side to side.

“i saw it,” he whispered, “at the bar… your eyes glowed.”

Like a switch, your eyes shot open, staring at him wide eyed as your body began to shake.

“Don’t tell.” You begged with a shudder, “Don’t tell…Please.”

You were a mage, you had to be. A danger to his family, to his brother. It explained your soul’s oddity and your reaction in the bar. He had to give you credit where it was due, acting innocent and weak, only to pull the sheets over his eyes to reveal your threatening capabilities. That glare you sent him at the bar sent chills up his spine. You had to be dealt with, locked away at least. He was sure his brother had a spare chamber in the basement to hold you. They couldn’t kill their soulmate, but could very much domesticate you to their rules.

He’d dealt with gangs of human magic users in Ebott. They’d attack any shared neighborhood or supermarket, leaving piles of dust in their wake. His family had put a stop to most attacks, quieting the magical chaos from ensuing into a warzone between monster and humans. But there were still those days when the vile snakes would arise from their burrows to wreak havoc once again.

“**what. are. you**?” he asked again.

He needed to be sure, to make his theories concrete. Then he’d tell the others and they’d interrogate you further.

“That’s…” your (E/c) eyes began to glow, illuminating your glare, “none of your business!”

His magic, encased around your soul, was quickly shoved back. Your palm collapsed against his torso with a wave of magic that pushed him back a few feet. Your chest heaved as you took in as much oxygen as you could while he recovered.

“I do not wish to fight.” You gasped, leaning on your knees, “Please.”

But he didn’t listen, flinging an array of bones in your direction. You dodged them by tumbling to the side, shaking on all fours like a scared animal. His magic flung you toward another wall. You pushed yourself off it before sharp bones sunk into your previous position, and barely got out of the way of another attack rising from the floor. You tripped and fell back, pushing yourself out of harm’s way as bones came threateningly close between your legs. He couldn’t kill you, but he could surely have fun with you.

You quickly regained your momentum, charging at him to grab onto an arm and flip his body over your shoulder. He easily teleported from your grasp, behind you, only for you to dodge from his attacks and counter to try to bring him down. He flung your body at every wall of the room, only for you to get back up and try again. Your determination was beginning to irk him as he threw you body toward the ceiling, only for you to push off to attack him from above. With ease, his magic pushed you with marginally more force into the crowd of mannequins on the opposite side of the room, mannequins collapsing around you like bowling pins.

Rus smirked at the sight of your unmoving body and slowly approached the pile, only to stop., confusion crossing his face. His body wouldn’t move. Looking up, he saw indigo lights staring back at him, disappearing and reappearing while their owner blinked. You slowly lifted yourself from under a mannequin and stepped from the pile.

“Ugh, finally. Thought you’d never throw me into the ceiling.” You cracked your neck, “You’re one tough cookie, I’ll give you that. You held back, luckily.”

You smirked at the expressions flashing upon his skull.

“Ya feel that? That’s my magic.” He dropped to his hands and knees from an invisible weight, “Guess this is the part where I say, ‘I knew you’d fall for me’, right?” You sighed, circling his still form, “My magic can create a temporal field as big as my choosing. I have to touch every wall of a room in order to make it complete, though; time consuming, but very much worth the make.” You kneeled in front of him with a serious stare, “Especially when I need to keep stubborn skeletons in place. You won’t be able to move, hide, or even teleport without my say so.”

You had finally begun taking this seriously. No, you planned this from the moment he attacked you.

“Rus, was it?”

He refused to answer, opting to stare you down.

“Relax, I’m not going to kill you. I meant what I said; I don’t want to fight.”

Why is that every human he meets claims they don’t want violence when they get the upper hand?

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

He tried summoning bones behind you, only for them to disintegrate shortly after forming. You sighed at the action, mumbling something under your breath, then jumped at him, knocking his paralyzed body onto its back as your own sat on his chest, leaning over him with both hands on either side of his skull. You growled at him, gnashing your canines just inches from his skull. Rus’ thoughts stopped, not just at the action, but the quick change in your appearance. Your ears had lifted and morphed into furred ones, twitching slightly back while you snarled at him as a long, bushy tail waved behind you.

“what… are you?” he asked again, feeling your magic move to paralyze him slightly above his spine.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

Rus had no idea a mage was capable of bizarre magic as this. Could he have gotten it wrong? If you weren’t a mage, were you-?

“not even human.” The words escaped his skull unfiltered.

Your eyes glowed a shaded orange color, one that reminded him of dancing flames of a lit fire. Your pupils squeezed into slits as you sent him a growled hiss. In milliseconds your tail changed from its (H/c) bushy state, to a dark narrow one with a crescent blade at the end. It lunged over your shoulder, stopping under his mandible, millimeters from his spine. He narrowed his eyes at you the action. If you were going to kill him, you'd better do it quick.

“**I**_ **am**_** human**.” You said darkly with polyphonic, growled undertones.

Rus expected to see denial in your eyes, but instead saw something that threw him off, lament. The tail slowly retracted away, over your shoulder, occasionally waving behind. You took a deep breath, eyes returning to their cool indigo with pupils widening to perfect circles.

“Ya know, he told me you monsters were dimwits when it came to humans using magic.” You said eyeing him with contempt, “But, I guess it’s not your fault. There’s so much of the world you still don’t know, even after being up here for a decade.”

You rested you head on your palm, choosing to lie on his chest. On any other day Rus would relish in the contact, but with the mystery of what you’ll do to him… Let’s just say he had other things on his mind, like planning an escape.

“I guess I’ll shatter your reality while I’m at it.” You sent him a soft smile, “Newsflash, bonehead, mages aren’t the only human magic users on the planet.”

That little tidbit made his eye lights shrink into the tiniest pinpricks as he stared at your amused expression. More? Different humans across the globe with the ability to perform magic of contrasting kinds. This... changed everything more than he'd like. His questions once again came back to you. If you weren't a mage, then what were you?You mimed an explosion coming out of your head with sound effects before going silent.

“Now,” you sat on up on his chest cross legged, knees barely reaching both sides of his rib cage, “here’s how it’s going to go. I let you go and you tell no one about this, not a word concerning my differences. Deal?”

“and if i don’t?” he questioned, watching you react with a sigh.

You smiled, showing your two sets of fangs, “I have teeth strong enough to bite through metal. How long do you think you’ll fare?”

Did you really think a simple threat like that would be enough to keep him quiet? You clearly had no idea who you were dealing with. Your tiny stature mouthing off on top of his chest was no different from a child yelling threats from atop a bear. They’d both end in blood and screams. But maybe he could persuade you to use your mouth for _other_ means…

You got off his chest with a disgusted look, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His chuckle boomed throughout the room as he felt your magic’s hold slacken, allowing him to sit up, “more than you know, _doll face_. though i’d usually prefer actual bondage and a flogger, this works too.” His teeth lifted partially as he eyed your nervous form.

“Try saying that six feet under like a real skeleton.” You tried to threaten.

He lifted an eyebrow at that, knowing full well a word didn’t need to be said on your mistake. You sighed as realization hit you. His ability to teleport rendered your little threat minute. This was almost painful to watch. Was this your first shake down?

“look, it won’t be long ‘til milord walks in and sees this, so… i’ll make you a deal. you tell me what you are and we’ll forget this ever happened. Deal?”

If you were a mage, he'd have no choice to lock you up, it wouldn't be long before you show your true nature and turn on him and his family. But, now knowing there are different type of magic users... If some on semblance of luck you were something else, he'd consider letting you go. Perhaps you could educate him about these different sects of magic users.

Your confusion was priceless.

“Why?” you asked, “Why is that so important?”

He shrugged, “you’ve piqued my curiosity. you’re something different compared to everyone else.”

You slowly approached. Compared to his height sitting down, you were quarter of a foot taller.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone; no monster or human can know, understand? Everything that happened at the bar up to now must be forgotten.” Your fists clench, “But if you break your word, I will-”

“kill me?” he finished with an amused grin.

“No.” you said seriously, kneeling in front of him, “I don’t kill, only maim. Tell me, Mr. Rus, how does a skeleton monster survive without magic?” Rus chose to stay silent as you leaned close to his skull, “If you break your promise, Mr. Rus, **I**_ **will**_** break you**.”

Chills went down his spine as you sent him that glowing eyed glare he received at the bar. For once your threat held true, but lacked the enthusiasm to execute. He could discern desperation from your stare. You never intended harming him in the first place, did you? If your scent wasn’t so uncanny, he might have smelled fear wafting from you.

_but he doesn’t fear me, only the information I know._

He nodded.

“Say it.” You nearly whispered.

He detested promises, but the information he would gain almost seemed worth it… And the look on your face was beginning to tear at his soul. He silently surrendered as his body relaxed numbly.

“i promise.” He said looking you straight in the eye, “the bar and everything that happened in this room won’t be repeated.”

That seemed to be good enough for you as you stood up quickly with a half-smile, almost seeming like you’d jump for joy at his compliance. You soon stopped letting out a long breath as you looked around trying to find the right words.

“I am… human.” You began, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “But, am mostly something else.” You ran a hand down your face with a hesitant pause, “A… demon.”

He blinked at that with a breathy scoff. He didn’t see a hint of deceit in your eyes, but how could you expect him to believe that. Humans_ called_ monsters demons. He began to question your sanity. Insanity _would_ explain your honest belief in what you are.

“you’re serious.” It wasn’t a question, “that’s a bit hard to…”

He didn’t have to finish as you sent him a bitter smile, “Believe? So were walking, talking, spooky, scary skeletons. And yet, here you are.”

_touché_.

He gave you a small nod.

“Don’t forget your promise, okay.” You took a few steps away from him.

The heavy atmosphere made by your magic slowly dissipated while the invisible weight holding him down lifted. He stood up, dusting himself off, occasionally eyeing your cautious form. You were threatened by him. Usually that made him feel powerful and smug, but hateful regret bit at his being like a rapid dog; the worried look on your face carving itself into his memory. He approached you with one hand in his slack’s pocket. With each step, your body stiffened to the point of looking like a worried statue. He solemnly smirked at that, stopping a foot away and gently laid his other hand on your head to ruffled your soft (H/c) hair.

“i’m sorry for what I did.” He apologized, “but if there’s one thing you can trust, it’s that i always keep my promises.”

You sent him a sad smile and nodded in thanks.

With a snap of his finger, the lights returned life back to into the room. The door also unlocked allowing the mansion’s sounds to finally flood back into the studio. He exited the room with a lazy wave.

“until next time, doll face.” He called over his shoulder before shutting the door.

____

You felt you could finally breathe after Rus’ departure. Dealing with him was more of an embarrassment than a fearful encounter. You had drastically lost your touch when it came to intimidating someone, let alone a monster. He could tell you wanted no business in violence the moment you voiced your first threat. How long had it been since you were remotely intimidating to someone for serious reasons, eight... nine years? You wished you had a pillow to scream into. 

_Someone else knows about me… _Your mind chimed, _Holy shit, some else knows about me!_

Your ears finally morphed back to normal while your tail retracted and dissolved into smoky mist. With a hand running through your hair, you paced back and forth, nearly tripping on scattered supplies that fell out of boxes during the scuffle.

_Right, I should probably take care of this_.

Using the marker from before, you scribbled a spell glyph on the wall. Gently placing your palm in the center, you imbued your magic into it. The glyph silently glowed baby green and began to grow, stretching itself along the walls. In flashes of light, boxes and their contents floated back into their original places while the mannequin crowd was erected back on the opposite side of the room. The room looked just as organized as before you entered. You took a step back to admire your work, only to trip on the marker and fall back toward the boxes.

____

Black paused at the sound of a crash coming from his studio. He quietly opened the door to see the room just as he’d left it, except for the human sprawled on top and below the boxes closest to the door with a lone marker rolling to the side of his shoe. It didn’t take a genius to tell what was the culprit. The human dizzily groaned a few complaints, body going slack. With the flick of his wrist, the boxes, encased in his violet magic, were removed from atop the small person. He nearly dropped the boxes upon seeing you. Your eyes blinked open, finally noticing him towering above.

“Hey, Mr. Black.” You tried to sit up and failed as the box you fell on caved in, “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.”

He stacked the floating boxes in the corner with a tinge of embarrassment warming his cheek bones. He was surprised you actually came through with your promise, expecting your friend to give him an excuse concerning your absence. Pleased with the turn of events, he held out his hand for you to take. You hesitantly took at, surprised by how fast he pulled you up.

“Yes, Well, I Had Important Business That Took Up More Time Than Expected. I Apologize.”

The shock on your face said it all, “I wasn’t looking for an apology or anything. I was just exaggerating. I’ve only been here for an hour, probably.”

Black took out his phone, immediately sending a text to one of the human males under him. If he and the rest were still downstairs, he’d better hurry up as fast as his human legs can carry him. He’d need his entourage to start working on you if he wanted to get to work.

“So, how are we gonna do this? Do we start with walking lessons or tips on how to signify proper emotion through body language?” you asked, gesturing for where to start.

That was a mouthful he didn’t think you’d be capable to comprehend. He wasn’t impressed, just barely astounded. He remembered the promise was for pointers regarding modelling, but honestly took this chance to get your measurements and maybe try a few outfits from his line. He had to start somewhere.

He cleared his nonexistent throat before standing up straighter, hands folded behind his back, “To Put It Simply, Modelling Is About Luring The Target Audience. It Doesn’t Reside On Smiling In Front Of A Camera, But Molding Yourself Into The Proper Stimulus Onto The Outfit For People To See. When The Populace Sees A Picture Of A Model Showing Off A Designer Line, They Are Not Meant To See The Person Wearing The Clothes, But A Mirror They Can Easily See Themselves In.”

You nodded, opening one of the blinds in the room to watch the last rays of the sunset, “So, a model lures the eyes of the public and makes them desire the clothing they wear.”

“Precisely.” He answered, pleased with your quick learning.

“So, what about runway models?” you asked.

“They Are No Different; Walking The Runway, Posture At Its Highest, Enrapturing The Audience With Pure Body Language As Your Turn In Front Of Them To Show Off The Designer's Wares.” He covered you mouth with the tips of his fingers, “This Doesn’t Matter, Only The Way Your Way Your Body And Eyes Vocalize The Emotion The Outfit Is Supposed to Convey.”

Right now, your eyes spoke volumes of shock and agitation. He gently removed his hand, turning to look at his phone to scoff at the excuse-riddled texts. Help hadn’t arrived, he’d have to do it himself. Rolling up his sleeves, he set to grabbing hair and makeup products from a few boxes

He laid the supplies on a long tray-like cart and ripped a white cloth off of a salon chair. You watched, dumbfounded, unaware of what he had planned for you. Without warning, he snaked his arm around your waist and lifted you effortlessly, plopping you into his salon chair. You weren’t as light as he was expecting but certainly not too heavy either. He questioned if your economic standing allowed you to eat full meals. Once he became your master, he’d make sure you had a satisfying diet, while keeping an eye out for his lazy counterparts bringing you the greasy slop they called food.

Your small size almost made the salon chair look like an arm chair. He didn’t want to admit, but your shocked form almost looked endearing. Almost. He set a stool behind you and sat, draping a cutting cape over you. Gently, he combed his phalanges through your hair that was riddled with split ends. He began to wonder if you could even afford proper hair care. You hadn’t much time left for him to wash your hair. Rehearsals had less than an hour left before everyone was sent home.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously.

What a stupid question to ask. Wasn’t it obvious at this point?

“Cutting Your Hair.” He answered.

“Uhm, that’s not necessary.” You began getting up, only to be pulled back down by his arm wrapping around your chest like a safety bar.

“I Will Not Have A Model Under My Tutelage Looking Like A Vagabond. Now, Hold Still.” He planned on starting you off with a fade haircut.

_Or Perhaps A Swept-Up Cut._ He pondered; _His Hair Is Long And Layered Enough For It_.

You squirmed under his hold. You had strength, he’ll give you that, but it was no match for his.

“I appreciate,” you struggled once more, “the offer, but I don’t need my hair cut. It’s fine the way it is.”

“Your Hair Is Covered In Dead Ends.” He replied.

“I’m… trying to grow it out?” you tried.

“Hold Still.” He ordered.

“I really don’t want my hair cut.” You warned.

“One Of The Duties Of A Model Is To Follow The Directions Of The Designer, Regardless Of What Said Model Wants.” He felt like he was talking down to a child. Did your immaturity know no bounds?

You continued to fight him for a few seconds, eventually giving up out of exhaustion. You tilted your head up at him, eyes quivering for mercy. He smirked at that, adjusting your head so he can begin cutting the sides. Seeing your sweet eyes failed, your demeanor instantly changed.

“If you so much as cut one hair,” you sent him a glare from the corner of your eye, “I swear I will bite you, straight through the bone, understand?”

“Oh Really?” he taunted, calling your bluff; your little threat lacking any intent.

You had the bark, but simply lacked the bite to uphold it. He’d have to teach you how to intimidate once you bonded with him… After a lesson on respecting your master, of course. You crossed your arms out of spite, threatening look turning into what you could muster as a serious frown.

“Fine.” You looked directly into his sockets, “Death before dishonor.”

There was a moment of silence between you two; his eye lights staring your unwavering eyes down for a few moments before he looked away trying to hold back a laugh. You were earnestly worked up over something as petty as hair. A few chuckles escaped his skull. Alright, he could indulge you, for now. He settled on just trimming your hair, calling you an oaf under his breath. You complied, allowing him to proceed. In ten minutes, four inches had been trimmed off. He felt a surge of pride blanket his soul as you beamed at his work.

“Guess I did need a haircut, huh?” you turned to look at him, your hair barely waving past your eyebrows.

“Immensely.” He answered, removing the cutting cape.

“First stage of the modification treatment?” You glanced in his direction as he froze, “Professional model, huh?”

So, you’d heard of his ramblings about you. He nervously began searching his boxes for his clothing measuring tape to keep from making eye contact. The door suddenly burst open with clamored steps, saving him from the now unpleasant atmosphere. He narrowed his sockets at the small crowd of his exhausted entourage.

“M-Mr. Serif, we came… as soon as we could.” His underling, holding a few silver and black cases, gasped.

“Regrettably.” He answered, gesturing to you, “This Is The Model I Need You To Work On. Make Them Presentable.”

The group’s eyes flashed to you like hungry hyenas and pounced, grabbing onto you to pull off your hoodie. They cut your dreadful pun shirt into ribbons to reveal a gray tank top underneath with horrid black stains covering its front. He almost felt pity at the sight of your astonished, red face as his entourage pulled the dirty thing off your chest. Though your pectoral muscles were more defined, your chest wasn’t as muscular as most males he’d worked with, but fit enough with a lean torso. Your hips, on the other hand, weren’t narrow but slightly wider and curved. Luckily, he had pants made for this body type on his line. Your body shook from adrenal shock as his entourage looked over your back and torso for any blemishes with sponge applicators. Your body had none. All that was left was your pants, then he could get to taking your measurements.

They slipped a new undershirt over your head then got ready to remove your pants. Something in that moment sparked your shaking form back to reality and push one of his underlings away from you. You backed away trying to get your bearings as they tried to approach again. In quickened prowess, you horizontally wall ran over them and jumped a few steps away from him, holding up your hands like you were trying to placate a bunch of wild animals.

“WHOA! Whoa.” You turned to him with a scolding glare, “Whoa…Can we please just take a moment to slow down here?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Black.” His most loyal underling apologized to him, “I don’t understand what seems to be the problem.”

“How about lack of tact and personal space?” you argued, “I can take off my own pants, thank you very much.”

Black lifted a bone brow, gesturing for you to do so. Annoyance crossed you face.

“In a dressing room.” You clarified through your teeth, “I don’t know what type of models you deal with, but I get dressed _behind_ closed doors like any sane person.”

He noticed through your rant that your pants, having lost its belt during the skirmish, hung loosely around your hips, revealing the top of pastel-colored boxers underneath. He instantly looked away, feeling his magic tinge his cheek bones from the sight. He stopped his mind from imagining the pants hanging a little lower, focusing on one of the problems at hand. You had no idea no idea how to color coordinate.

_Completely hopeless._

**-|-**

____

You ran from the foyer through the first door you saw. It was only luck that you managed to find the dining room. The room was vast with many tables stacked on top of one another with an array of chairs stacked neatly in a corner. A stage, hand built by the looks of it, stood against the farthest wall with instruments and performers. Robin stood atop the stage singing at the top of her lungs due to the lack of microphones. Upon further speculation, Robin was sweating bullets and looked as tired as an insomniac. Midway through the second verse, a familiar loud voice interrupted her, silencing the band.

“ONCE AGAIN, YOUR TIMING IS OFF, MS. ROBIN. WHAT HAVE I ASKED OF YOU ALREADY?” you looked to the side of the stage to see tall sharply dressed, skeleton sitting with a leg bent over the other, “FOLLOW THE TIMING OF THE BAND.”

She slumped with an obedient glower, “Yes, Mr. Edge.”

Mr. _Edge_, living up to his name, sighed in annoyance and waved her off, “TAKE A FEW MINUTES BREAK AND MAY YOU RETURN WITH ENOUGH COMPETENCE TO SING CORRECTLY.”

You jaw dropped at his dismissive behavior.

_Did someone shove a stick up this guy’s pelvis, or what?_

You quickly hurried to your friend’s aid as she walked off the stage with shaky breaths and squeezed her into a hug whispering words of comfort. She sniffled into your chest for a few moments before pulling away.

Her eyes flashed to the off-white dress shirt over your black straight-legged jeans.

“You look nice.” She smiled, wiping, “Like really nice; senior year crush nice.”

“Oh? Am I just as dashing as a football jock?” you stroke a pose like a refined gentleman.

“More like the president of the chess club.” She joked.

You leaned on her out of spite.

“I take it the modelling tips went well.” She pushed you off her.

“Oh, yes,” you nodded with a squeamish expression, “one of the best experiences of my life; ten out of ten. I’ll be speaking of it for many days to come.”

_To a psychiatrist._

“Was it really that bad?” she asked.

You clicked your teeth, “Remember Julia Roberts on Rodeo Drive in ‘_Pretty Woman_’?”

She nodded, picturing it.

“Think of my experience as the opposite of that where five designer helpers are tearing my clothes off to get me into new ones.”

You closed your eyes to keep calm from the memory. You had come so close to wearing a normal cotton wrap to tie down your chest, but settled on the wrap peppered in glamour scriptures last minute. The sight of a flat chest with pectorals made you almost weep as if you’d won the lottery. Thank stars for magic. You don’t know what you’d do if those gremlins actually saw your tits in their full glory.

“I’m sure you managed.” She elbowed you in the side.

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” You answered nervously.

“What did you do?” she groaned, facepalming, fearing the answer.

“Peaced the fuck out of there while they were discussing something about a Chino and a Fit Flats.” You said with a straight smile.

You’d never slipped on your converse so fast. Mr. Black was a few grains short from crazy with the way he ran things with models. Better yet, you questioned the sanity of the models he worked on. Who the hell needs to be dressed from head to toe anymore, this isn’t the nineteenth century? You were a grown woman dammit! You were taught how to dress yourself a _long_ time ago.

“Oh, the Chino would be perfect for you.” You sent her a betrayed look, “Most men kind of have a problem with it because the crotch is a bit high up, but you’d probably have a nice fit since, you know… What, it’s perfect, sue me.”

You shook your head and nearly jumped a few feet in the air when Mr. Edge screamed out a name. In seconds, the secretarially dressed woman you saw earlier scurried over, heels clopping to a fast beat.

“Is it always like this?” you asked.

“You get used to it.” She said with an apologetic smile.

You hummed in disbelief at that, positive that the majority working today will leave the mansion high-strung_._

“So, what’s the deal with Mr. Megaphone over there?”

“His _name_ is Mr. Edge and he’s head coordinator alongside Mr. Black.” Robin explained.

“Charming, I’m sure.” You mocked.

“His vocabulary is.” She defended.

You gave her a lopsided frown, “Then marry a Thesaurus.”

She slapped your arm, causing you to laugh.

“But seriously though.” You gestured his way, “What’s his problem with you?”

“Uhm,” she looked away upset, “My voice isn’t loud enough, I keep messing up when it comes to singing in tangent with the band, and I’m ruing the ambience.”

That didn’t sound like Robin at all. She always practiced and sang every song millions of times before a performance. What was so different now? The answer hit you right in the face as Mr. Edge yelled another complaint about the lighting.

“The ambience? The ambience?! The… ambience.” You feigned a heart attack, leaning on Robin, “I’m sorry the ambience just made me want to faint.”

She pushed you off once more, scolding you in a whispered tone.

_How the hell does a singer affect the ambience when nothing has been properly prepared?_

You turned to watch Mr. Edge with narrowed eyes, kissed Robin on her forehead before she could finish her rant, and began making your way toward him. Robin tried to pull you back, but you ducked between a line of movers bringing in more tables, a skill you had recently learned with tons of real-time experience. You planned your words carefully; simply ask him to tone it down with the punishing volume and words.

_Simple enough. What could possibly go wrong?_

You reached his tall form, stopping a few feet away. He was greatly dressed like the other skeletons you’d met. He wore black suit and slacks with dark crimson lining the collar and pockets. A dark red vest peeked from between the fold his jacket, making the rest of the suit pop. Black loafers shined bright like gems with red lacing. Like Black, he had three, long, sharp, strokes carved into his skull over his left socket, graduating his look from intimidating to menacing.

“Hi, uhm-”

He passed you an elegant looking mug with crossed rapiers on both sides, “FINALLY, ONE OF YOU INGRATES DECIDES TO DO YOUR JOB.”

You stood there, dumbfounded.

“WELL?” he demanded.

_Okay, time for a different approach._

“I don’t work for you.” You said, placing the cup on a nearby chair.

“COME AGAIN, VERMIN?” he asked threateningly.

“I _mean_ I literally don’t work for you. What the hell is your problem anyway?”

A headache began to pound at your temple. Before he could retort, you placed a finger over his sharp teeth, shushing him. You sighed in relief.

“You hear that? That’s called silence.” You whispered, “And I’m pretty sure ninety-nine percent of the people working tonight are begging for it.” You combed a hand through your newly cut hair, “No… I’m sorry, this is tremendously rude of me. I just have four problems and they’re starting to make me irritable. Care to listen?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, “Great. Firstly, volume control. Do you want to know what I hear?”

Your sound effect could only be described as a choking lizard try to hiss. Mr. Edge leaned slightly back in offense.

“Do you wanna know why?” you continued, “It’s because some self-centered asshole has been constantly yelling out every thirty seconds for the past hour, bludgeoning my ear drums to bloody pulps.” You weren’t around, but you sure as hell figured that was the pattern here, “There’s a norm that people follow, monster and human. It’s called INSIDE VOICES!” He actually jolted back at your sudden rise in volume, “So it would be most helpful if you could turn it down a few decibels, okay, Starscream?”

You lifted your finger gently from his skull. Before he could say a word, you pushed a finger to your lips with a dark look. His teeth instantly closed with a small clack. As the secretary walked by, you snatched her clipboard away with a small thank you, and ripped out most of her paper work. As you guessed, a few blank pieces of paper hung at the bottom of the stack. Making sure a pen was sheathed between the clip, you handed her papers back then shoved the board onto Mr. Edge’s chest.

“Secondly, the yelling every thirty seconds, needs to stop. If you have a problem with how someone’s performing, write down what you think and wait for it to end. We don’t need Twitcher McTweeky having a hard time playing because he only did the same thirty seconds of a song over and over.” You lifted three fingers, “Thirdly; criticism. Want to change the ambience, hire a new interior designer. If you’re going to criticize, follow the first two, because I can assure you, no one will be able to play correctly with you blowing out their eardrums and calling them incompetent. Yelling doesn’t provoke perfection, it causes failure.”

Mr. Edge’s face changed from that of anger and shock to a seething annoyed look.

“Lastly,” you gestured behind you toward the stage, “why the hell aren’t there any microphones up? If you want better sound quality, get some mics.”

A man suddenly began to wave at you from the corner of you eye. You looked over to see him gesturing for you to come over. You looked back to see Mr. Edge’s face had become an increasingly deep shade crimson. His chest rose as he took a breath to no doubt yell at you. Before his voice could leave his skull, you grabbed his hand with a nervous laugh, hoping to ward off the upcoming tirade that would no doubt deafen you.

“Thanks for listening, Mr. Edge.” You awkwardly curtsied his way and retreated to the stranger calling you over. For once, it actually stayed silent.

You walked to the man who was now kneeling over many black compartment boxes full of sound equipment.

“Hey, these are the mics.” You picked up a microphone, “Why aren’t they up?”

“Uhm,” he gave off a nervous air, “W-we did have a-a few up. B-but Mr. E-edge, w-well… When he y-yelled at one of the performers, h-he sort of cause the s-speakers to implode.”

“You mean _explode_, right?” you asked.

He shook his head, “No, I-I mean, they b-blew up from the i-inside.”

Well, _that_ was an interesting feat. You only got the impression he could possibly shatter glass with his voice, but killing technology is a rank up.

_What a quaint overachiever._

“Okay, so… how do we still set it up?”

The man stared at you like you’d grown a second head, instantly refusing, stating the repercussions of Mr. Edge imploding another speaker could start a fire, not mention he himself needed to do two different kinds of sound checks; one with a small band, the other with an orchestra scheduled to rehearse tomorrow evening. You didn’t see the problem doing one for now and the other tomorrow. After a few minutes her finally caved. Seeing his nervous nature, you figured being in the line of Mr. Edge’s sight might make him vibrate at lightspeeds in unease, asking had him direct you on how and where to set up the mics.

Once on stage, you noticed Robin’s old bandmates from Destine’s. It was an old bar from over seven years ago and one of Robin’s first venues to perform at. The owner, Thomas Lander, was as laid back as a yoga instructor. He allowed most music of all genres be played. Old Tom wasn’t into violence, something you got behind while adapting to you new lifestyle at the time. In order to kick out a bigot or make a point, he allowed both you and Robin to sing. Most would leave, others would be escorted by one of the stronger patrons. There was one performance when she sang a song called, “Fuck You” by Lily Allen toward a bigoted man trying to put down another patron for their tastes. It became a tradition where the patrons would join in on the fun, forcing the trouble maker to leave on their own. You loved practicing with her for future performances, even singing a few songs to get her spirits up, never performing for money. It was basically cheating for a creature like yourself. Changing your vocals was child’s play. Sadly, Old Tom passed away four years back, taking Destine’s with him.

You greeted the prior bandmates with handshakes and hugs as you set up the mics in their proper places. After the last mic was in place, you turned to call Robin up and sing, only to see her dead tired, sitting in a chair holding a water. Her bandmates had tired glances, but weren’t worse for wear. You sighed, making a decision that you hoped you wouldn’t regret and turned back to the bandmates asking for a favor to play a song to lift her spirits like back during the simpler days. They didn’t need a second to decide, agreeing to play at your mark. You nodded and approached the mic at the foot of the stage, stage fright creeping on you as you cleared your throat.

“Testing; one, two, three.” Feedback blared from the speakers for a second before disappearing.

You looked to your side to see the nervous fellow giving you a thumbs up from his sound board and grabbed the mic once more with a small bit of bravery, “So, this is a sound check, but it’s also going to be fun.” You looked down to see Mr. Edge brooding in his seat while tapping his leg, clearly waiting for an explanation, “You can try to judge me, Mr. Edge, but I highly doubt you know this song.”

You lifted your hand and threw it down as the band began to play Set It Off’s “_Why Worry_”. It didn’t take long for Robin’s head to perk up at the familiar beat. Your voice hit the mic with professional fluidity that seemed to make most workers stop and watch. Your body moved with the beat as you sang each verse, exaggerating a few moves while you twirled and dipped the mic stand. Every step was the same as back when you’d sing for Robin to boost her confidence back at Destine’s. It was all for fun and get that warm smile on her face.

Right now, Robin was covering her face in embarrassment, face red from laughing. After a little swaying during the rift, you managed to coax her into joining you on stage for half of the last verse. Your twirled her around the stage, ending in a dip. A few claps and cheers sounded behind Mr. Edge. You let Robin up with a squeezed hug.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Dork.” She pushed you a little, almost making you fall off stage.

You felt a small force push you a few steps away from the edge. Turning around you saw Mr. Edge’s right eye glowing like a red flame. In seconds, it died out, returning to his small red pinpricks staring intently at you.

____

Edge seethed in his seat. How could the Great and Terrible Edge, the Patron of Dust and Bloodied Rivers, be cursed with something as this? Fate has made him a laughing stock by giving him a feeble human as a soulmate. Humans were weak compared to how they were centuries before, most having been born with the inability to wield magic. He refused to accept his soul had been tied to one of these foul vermin!

Edge had set himself to ignore your existence as he continued coordinating the performers. So far, all had been ill-minded and amateurish. None of the humans knew the first thing of performing. There was no pizazz nor creativity. With each criticism they caved, becoming worse. He’d already sent home three singers in the past hour. Only one was left, a Ms. Robin, who seemed key to testing his patience. He asked her to start again, resulting in her timing would be off or her voice wouldn’t carry over the band. He was set on giving her one final chance, allowing her a break for now. His hopes low concerning her improvement.

Then you seemed to pop up out of the wood work, comforting the small bird. Ms. Robin’s tears and your narrowed glare his way, spoke paragraphs on what you thought of him. It wasn’t his fault the little bird lacked the competence to perform correctly.

Humans were too weak-minded to sense their soulmate, he understood that. So, why did your comfort her way make him seethe? His claws seeped into the sides of chair he sat in, physically barring him from stomping your way and pulling you from her to teach you to show some decency.

Edge expected you to simply comfort your girlfriend and move on, however, you instead approached and actually laid your grubby hands on him. Your words held strength as did your stance and expressions. As sick as it made him to admit, he admired your courage to stand up to him. Having a backbone amongst all the spineless heathens he was forced to be around was a feat; a scarcely noticeable trait that could be almost be called a redeeming quality.

Regardless, the fact that you questioned his authority in public was unacceptable. You even went as far as to dismiss him to speak with a worthless human who couldn’t set up the microphones correctly. He questioned your sanity, after seeing you set them up yourself. You surprised him by performing onstage, openly challenging his judgement. Your performance was adequate at best, seeming more as a joke than a concert. It didn’t take long for him to see your mediocre performance was to cheer up the little bird. You succeeded in lifting her spirits, improving her performance in comparison to the inept humans who’d come before her.

Once again, you approached him, sitting next to him like he was a friend. Even he didn’t consider someone who talked down to him ally-worthy. Instead of yelling his way with an ironfist, you apologized. That confused him to no end. He understood your plight with him, even respected your bravery to stand up. Were you taking pity on him? How distasteful. If you thought he’d take the insult with open arms, you had a lot to learn. He planned on impaling your arm for the rest of the night to prove a point, only to stop when you began explaining yourself.

“You know what you remind me of?” you asked, “A sergeant. Most people in military positions yell as much as you do.”

You then shouted a command as loud as you could, resulting in the bandmembers onstage to shout a “Sir, yes sir”. Though he wouldn’t openly admit it, he was impressed by the loyalty you shared with the human instruments. You sent him a smirk, only for it to immediately fall.

“These people aren’t soldiers, only regular people doing nine to five-hour jobs. So, take it down a peg, will ya. People show courtesy when it is given to them. Respect’s a two-way street, Edgy-Skel.”

He hid his blush at the nickname with his hand. He understood what you meant, though found it abhorrent. In his underground, showing courtesy held the weight of weakness. And the weak never survived a day once they were found. The only way to demand respect was through a history covered in dust. You seemed to read his look of disgust, because your next words actually hit him in his nonexistent gut.

“I don’t know how it was back in the Underground, but just to hammer some reality into your skull, you aren’t there anymore.” You gave his arm a pat, “You’re free, dude. Free to see the days, the nights, and the stars. Don’t let your past define you when you’ve got a future to live.”

You continued to surprise him; first howling at him like a dog ready for war then tossing him an olive branch like some saintly nun. Perchance, you hit your head on your way here? He finally sighed at your words and nodded in conformity.

“Perhaps, Some Of Your Words Hold Truth.” He said with a lower volume, “Thank You.”

He hadn’t thanked anyone except Frisk. May you keep your mouth shut of this action. He’d impale you before admitting to weakness. You’d survive… maybe.

You smiled warmly at him, giving a thumbs up, “Glad I could be of help.”

“That being said,” he leaned close to your small height, “If You Ever Question My Authority Again, I Will Gut You Where You Stand. Are We Clear?”

“Noted.” You hummed in affirmation and slowly began edging away from him.

He grabbed onto your thigh, intent to dislodge your hip to make a point.

“**Are_ We_ Clear**?” he asked again, right socket glowing in red flames.

You gulped at that, earning an amused smirk from him.

“Crystal. Completely crystal.” You babbled.

He gave your head a small pat, “Good Boy.”

Like a switch, your nervous expression changed into a serious one, hand tightly squeezing his wrist as you lowered it away from your head.

“I am not a pet.” You decreed, standing up to walk away.

Oh, but you were. Edge kept his smirk in place as he watched you. He had harder victims to break. They each folded after his training. You were no different. It’s only a matter of time before he has you begging for him on all fours like a good pet.

**-|-**

____

You lied on the lounging sofa at the back of the dining room, intent on napping the last ten minutes away. Somewhere along the lines, Rus joined you, placing your legs on his lap. The minutes ticked by uncomfortably with you feeling his saffron eye lights burning into you. Once you heard people begin to leave, you bolted straight for the exit, ignoring the chuckle reverberating behind you. Robin had the same idea to leave ASAP, already at the door having a conversation with Mr. Edge concerning her performance and room for improvement.

You tried your best to dodge Mr. Black’s gaping stare at you, placing yourself next to Sans. Not the best place to be, but having King Pompous planning to feed you to his hungry footmen for running out on him, made it easier to choose. You’d take a prideful king over a pompous one any day.

When Robin was all set to leave, you began your exit from the building, only to stop upon hearing familiar yelling. You looked over your shoulder to see Edge spouting insults toward Red. You could hear the low, “Come on bro” and “boss” at the end of each sentence. So, they were brothers… Red caught sight of you staring and you immediately looked onward, taking another step to exit, only to stop once more as the volume escalated, insults increasing at a sorrowful rate

_I could ignore this_, you thought, _or I can do something_.

Your hands clenched into fists. No one deserved that level of demeaning. You approached the two, tugging on Mr. Edge’s sleeve like a child begging for attention. He turned his head to look at you, scowl somewhat softening.

“Uh… hey, Edgy-Skel.” You said shyly, “I just… wanted to say good-bye.”

He scoffed at that, “As If I’d Care For Your Frivolous Pleasantries.”

“Fine, play the tsundere.” You taunted.

His confused expression made you laugh.

“I just came to add onto some advice I gave you earlier.” You shrugged.

“Make It Quick, Human.” He ordered.

You took his large hand in yours and sent him a serious look, “Don’t take you family for granted.”

His sockets widened at that while Red’s eye lights extinguished.

You let his hand go, turning with a wave, “See ya, Edgy-Skel. You too, Sharkface.”

You began making your way to Robin, only to remember you left your hoodie, if it even survived Mr. Black’s designer goons.

_Rest in peace Creep-T_, you held a moment of silence for the Hyde shirt.

Your hoodie was then dangled in your face. You slowly took it from the clawed phalanges, allowing them to ruffle your hair like before.

“Thanks, Mr. Rus.” You thanked, beginning to walk off, only for his clawed hand to grip the top of your head lightly, “Uhm, let go, please.” You tried to move onward again without any luck. Rolling your eyes, you gave in, seeming to have an idea as to why he was being so _clingy_, “Fine, just Rus.” Your guess held true when Rus finally released you.

“see ya, doll face.” He drawled his farewell.

You were starting to see a pattern. The more relaxed and laid-back skeletons seemed to dislike formalities. You slipped on your hoodie, sending him and the others one last wave before sprinting off after Robin who had already begun walking ahead of you. Charging in her direction, you picked up speed, scooping her up bridal style and continued running down the winding blocks toward the entrance gate. You slowed to a walk as the gate came in sight, still holding Robin.

“So, why is it that whenever I dress up, you wear plain clothes?” you asked, nodding toward her cute jeans and grey fold-over blouse.

She smiled, resting her head on your shoulder, “This is the first time and you know it.”

You adjusted your grip on her, lifting her slightly in your grasp.

“My boss gave me the day off.” She finally admitted.

“Knew it.” You answered.

You smiled, realization hitting you, “I just noticed something.”

“What?” Robin asked after you exited the gate.

“I didn’t do any type of modelling today.” you shrugged, “What waste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, we'll be over 100 pages in no time.  
I would like to take the time to apologize for some of the POVs. I struggled with Rus this time around. Explaining fight scenes is kind of difficult, but I wanted to at least try it out, considering this fic will soon be filled to the brim in violence.  
If you have any questions, do not be afraid to ask. It's a long chapter and I probably missed something in editing that isn't described well.  
On a better note, (Y/N) is finally standing up for herself, albeit poorly but... You can't win every battle against the skeletons. I don't think dominating 12 skeletons is going to be easy.  
At least you're on somewhat good terms with a few Skels.  
Can't wait to finish the party chap so we can move on to changing pastures (I know what I typed). I have so many new characters and skeletons to introduce. I'm getting tired of just Robin-relationship taking up page time, aren't you?  
Have a nice day/night/evening/night everyone~!  
\- From an anxious writer.  
P.S. Who do you think will claim (Y/N) first?  
Also, I haves a Tumblr now: [Check It Out!](https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com)


	5. Surviving An Enticing Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You attend the skeletons' party and experience a wild adventure of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A Random Question Appears* Why do we look different in hoods?  
*We Now Return To Your Weekly Chapter*  
Thirty-one pages. THIRTY-ONE... PAGES OUT OF 112! Apologies for the for the length...  
Sorry for the late submission, had over 12 pages of rewrites _and_ had a family get together to top it off so, WOOH, it's been a long week for me.  
Thank You so much for the tons of KUDOS and I hope you all enjoy this long treat.  
BTW... there might be a Halloween Special this month... Remember the word "might". It's not official yet.  
Happy reading~!  
(Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(H/c) - Hair color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- - Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change  
_*_*_ - Flashback  
_|_|_|_ - Third POV

Rain padded the paved streets, soaking every lit lawn peppered with jack-o-lanterns and Halloween décor. Overachiever houses gained their haunted status as wind blew tattered decorations and lightning struck from behind. Trick-or-treaters ran amuck amongst the small storm, unmoved to be barred from appropriating bags full of candy, resulting in costumes being hidden beneath raincoats and boots.

You were currently staying the night at Gavin’s place with a few friends for a Halloween movie-palooza. This was done every year, usually at Elia’s place, to bring the busy bods down for some R&R, alcohol, and sugar doused treats. The “celebration” began around five so others could come straight from work. Sadly, out of the eight party-goers, only three remained, most having to leave before nine to get ready for the upcoming workday, including Robin who had two three hour shifts tonight. Halloween was on a Thursday after all.

All that was left was a warlock, a demon-hybrid, and a shaman sitting on a couch watching horror movies. To be honest, you were surprised no one had mentioned anything about the witching hour, the later it got.

Elia was one of the busiest of bods Gavin invited over. With three kids, a vet clinic, _and_ a dance studio to manage, you were surprised she still had time to have a conversation or not collapse into a snoring frenzy. Tonight, luckily, was her free night. Her husband was still on a business trip and her kids were sleeping over at their cousin’s, giving her a chance to unwind and catch up with old friends.

Compared to Gavin, whom you met decades prior, you’ve only known Elia for six years. She immediately called you out on what you were seconds after meeting you through Gavin. It took some time before she could even glance your way without an untrustworthy gaze. Shamans were fluent in dealing in demons, one of few magic oriented creatures that could easily thwart and kill a demon. Having blood toxic to demons were just one of her many gifts.

When she finally showed interest in getting to know you, her hard exterior crumbled to hardheaded, charismatic woman, now with a recent down to earth motherly vibe. For the past four years, you had formed a sisterly bond with her, always being the go-to person when the tough would make you stagger to your knees. It was fun being able to hang with her again. Since she had her son, social connection was a bit more difficult. Having to train your kids, let alone a toddler, on how to control their magic and remain normal in a dominant non-magic society, was tough. The risks were too great to stop and have a cup of coffee. Which is why you’d taken initiative to having fun when she was around.

This year, however, you were playing it safe; no jokes or pranks, just enjoying a nice, wet Halloween watching Shutter Island, Kong, and the Wicker Man while you took on the responsibility of handing out candy this year. Every time the door rang, you jumped from your spot between the two and answered the door in an old black fencing suit Gavin lent you. After putting on the suit’s helmet, you glowed your (E/c) eyes to give the screened mask an eerie look and opened the doors to greet the trick-or-treaters. Most grabbed candy and went on their merry way, while others asked for a trick alongside their sugary treat.

In previous years, despite his warlock heritage, Gavin always got into the spirit of Halloween. He’d decorate the house into asylums and crypts, doing his best to scare the trick bearers with creepy stories and lines he’d practiced to a fault. Five years ago, was his best yet, decorating the back of the room like a cannibal’s butchery. He asked Robin to design tattered clothes with food color stains that he could hang on skeleton props. The ceiling was decorated with rubbery slabs of fake skin and bloodied hand prints. Once someone asked for a trick, he’d remotely light up the back of the house, revealing his fake victim, introducing _him_ as the main course, ripping out a rusty meat hook and forcing out a creepy laugh. Kids would playfully scream and jog down his driveway to their parents. You never let him live that laugh down, though. It was the least scary factor out of his entire act, sounding like an uncle barbecuing and laughing about the meat cuts, but… to each their own. It was probably what he was going for.

But this year, it was your turn…

You looked down at the kid who asked for a trick and gently took off your helmet, revealing your furred ears and bared fangs. Your glowed eyes squeeze to slights as you hunched over, lifting your now clawed hands as if you were about to pounce their way and snarled. The kids laughed and ran down the driveway, some turning to thank you for the trick and candy. You relaxed, standing straight, and waved back. Adults of the group commented on your “makeup”, sending you a thumbs up, before continuing on their way. You smiled at that, closing the door.

_Ah, Halloween, the only time a demon can walk out freely without screams… In this century, anyway_.

**-|-**

You lied on the couch, enjoying a comfortable rest. You hadn’t gotten in until after ten and didn’t get to sleep until much later. Fate set her sights on your sleep deprived state once more and had a familiar voice call out your name. Not seconds later, you were being shaken awake by Robin. With a grumble, you buried yourself under the blanket and began slipping back to sleep. An impatient sigh sounded above you moments before the blanket was ripped off. Shivering at the cold air, you opened an eye to see Robin staring down at you with a pout.

“Come on, it’s time to wake up.” She clapped.

You looked up, eyes squinting at the morning light before looking toward the digital clock next to the TV: ** 7 AM**.

“Robin,” you rasped before collapsing your head back onto the pillow, “the party doesn’t start until six.”

You crashed at Robin’s for instant party prep. She wanted to be able to do adjustments without fear of time running out if you had hurried from home around three. But you were exhausted after spending two days doing fourteen-hour shifts in order to make up time for your absence Monday. Yesterday, Gavin explained it was to put extra hours in for your possible absence on Monday, explaining he wanted you to take a day off after staying up late for the party.

“I know, it’s eleven hours away.” Robin pulled on your arm, “That gives me four hours to work on you, two for me to get ready, and three to teach you how to properly show off the suit.”

With a groan, you turned your head to eye her tiredly, “…Fine.”

“Great!” she cheered, making you cringe at the volume, “Go shower, then we can get started.”

She tossed a stack of towels onto you.

_Ugh, it’s too early for this_.

**-|-**

____

Boredom was always first to take over a party during its first hour when waiting for guests to arrive. Stretch finished his bottle of honey as he stared from the balcony peering over the dining room. The slow growing population below had begun to mingle around, crowding specific parts of the room like penguins. Like his cousins, Stretch refused to greet guests until the last of the invited arrived. It always felt tedious walking the same path around the room to shake hands with fake smiles toward people he knew hated his guts, if he had any, but pay respect simply because of his family’s wealth. If it weren’t part of the plan to plant themselves into society before taking over, he would have skipped this gig all together, but the quest to attain a city as small as this came with struggles.

Suddenly, as if a huge candle had been lit, the room seemed to brighten. His soul did a back flip, hammering against his rib-cage like a buzzing bee. It tugged and pushed against his ribs, forcing his body to hang over the balcony from the force of impact. Curious about the feeling, Stretch went against his swearing oath of staying hidden until the party truly began, shortcutting to the corner of the room. Thankfully, no one, had noticed his tall form… _yet_.

His height gave him easy access to the on goings of the room, eye lights scanning the room for anything that might stand out. Without warning, his soul slammed against his rib-cage, causing him to flinch. Just as he began to list possible catalysts, his soul’s thrumming stopped. Turning his head toward the door to the foyer, he saw a pretty, young woman in a mint cocktail dress. Her hair was pinned up in an elegant bun with a wavy bang stylized to the side alongside a fluffed, green and gray feather pinned on top. Her kind soul, with strands of marigold that swirled like a vortex, complimented her dress very well. She was elegant yet held a nipping vibe about her, a trait he was sure Rus would latch onto for a night.

But none compared to her companion whose arm she hung onto. Your 1940s, dark-gray zoot suit and matching tear-drop, crown hat was quite distinguished, making you look like an actual gangster from way back when. Your dress shirt, hat ribbon, and feather each matched your partner’s dress like a puzzle piece. A small pretzel stick sat between your teeth while your hat seemed to shade your eyes. Stretch snorted as the sight reminded him of Chara years back when they snatched a suit from his brother’s closet and walked around in the baggiest of fine clothing with a chocolate pocky-stick hanging out of their mouth. He covered his teeth to muffle the chuckles trying to escape. Stars, how old were you?

He wouldn’t call your attire a breath of fresh air, but seeing clothes from a different era was a nice surprise. Most humans, while entertaining monsters, always felt it was law to theme everything from the 1920s. What humans failed to understand was that monster culture merely adopted the Harlem Renaissance in the _beginning_. They evolved from its original teachings very quickly, creating their own views on government, gangs, and, most definitely, music.

You walked and mingled with the smaller woman on your arm for a few minutes. It didn’t take long for her to get into the rhythm, allowing you some respite from the crowds. Stretch’s eye lights watched you traverse around the room. Your soul, though not as bright as your partner’s glowed a deep oceanic blueish green until you parted ways, cooling to a deep midnight blue. It was normal for souls with multiple traits to change color, just not on a drop of a dime.

Like a gong, your soul pulsed a wave out toward his and the world came crashing down. Stretch endured the warm feeling with a solemn smile. He always found humans a distrustful species, the only exception being Chara. He couldn’t trust them, regardless of how far he could throw them. Now, he finds his soul drawn to one, obvious irony as blunt as brass knuckles to the skull. His sockets narrowed your way as he finally checked you.

**(Y/N)**

**LV 0**

**HP 1285/ 1498**

**AT 42 DF 600**

**Too Tired Too Party…**

His sockets rose at your stats. Your defense and attack were quite high for a human. His brother, having a high defense of two-thousand, had an attack of mere fifteen. And your LV… No one could have zero LoVe. Either you were a saint since birth or something was wrong with your soul. His brow bones furrowed at you. Were you, perhaps, an anomaly? His mind became muddled as he tried to decide what to do. As a judge he could look over your actions through the end of the night. If you passed, he’d tell the others of your existence. If not… he’d handle it with his brother.

____

You never thought going to a party on an accumulated ten hours of sleep after two days of working overtime would be this hard. You sighed in relief when Robin finally allowed you to traverse on your own as she continued her _mingling_ around the room until her performance. Your eyes searched the room for a table that didn’t have some rich snob sitting at it. Currently, all were full.

Walking around the continental sized room, you finally encountered an oasis in the dry environment. If there was one redeeming quality about attending a rich party, it would be the prairies of expensive food laid out on the longest table known to man. A bearish growl emanated from your stomach as your mouth salivated at the delicious homeland. You didn’t get the chance to have breakfast while Robin took an extra two hours making extra adjustments to the suit. If you saw a sewing kit, it’d be too soon.

With the willpower of a starving demon, you made a small plate filled with cocktail shrimps and sushi, and tiny sandwiches; taking extreme care to not add anything with a liquid sauce to reduce chances of staining your shirt. An array of flavors hit your palette from your first bite of the rich delicacies, making your mind swoon. The food was so good that you practically had to stop yourself from doing the “Praise the Sun” stance. You swore an angel chorus was singing over your shoulder.

_Wait a minute._

You looked over to see Elia humming like a choir, snickering upon seeing your displeased face that soon turned to crumbling fits of laughter.

“Oh, I-I'm sorry, that was just too easy.” She laughed, “You… You should’ve seen the look on your face… finding enlightenment… in cocktail shrimp-!” She hung onto you as another fit of giggles shook her.

“Elia, nice seeing you here.” you gave a monotone cheer, “Is what I would say if I knew you were coming.”

She finally seemed to calm down, leaning on you, looking beautiful in her red, sequined, flapper, evening dress and feathered bandana. Even though you were both the same height, her dark high heels made her tower a few inches above you.

“The same could be said for you.” She retorted.

“I got roped into modelling.” You blandly informed, finishing your plate before a server came and took it from you.

“I see.” She stalled.

You gave her a look while leaning against the tall table with your arms crossed. She sighed in defeat, looking elsewhere.

“How was I supposed to tell you?” she asked, “Everyone who knows already called me a sellout. I don’t need a tenth one yelling into my ear the same things I’ve been hearing for the past month.”

You tilted your head at her defeated expression and took her left forearm in yours.

“Shame on you,” you began, “SHAME_ON_YOU for accepting a gig that provided more money for your family.” You slapped her on the wrist and smirked, “There, can we move on now?”

Her expression paused into a still faced stare for a few moments before her eyes lit up with an ecstatic smile. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around you, nearly squeezing the life out of you.

“Y-you gonna tell me what you came to me for?” You strained to ask over her shoulder while weakly patting her back.

She swayed you left and right, “Aw, can’t I just enjoy the moment with my favorite demon?”

“I’m the _only_ demon… you know.” Black spots slowly began covering your vision, “Not to cut this nice moment short, but I could… r-really use some air.”

She finally let you go. Upon release, you grabbed onto the table for dear life as you gasped for air with an exasperated glare pointed her way.

“Alright, I do need a favor.” She admitted.

“With what…?” you breathed.

“One of the dancers I’m supposed to be performing with in,” she checked her watch, “three minutes, hasn’t arrived yet.”

You gestured her way questionably.

“_So_, I was wondering if you’d be willing to perform with me?”

You cast her a glance of disbelief, “You do realize we would be performing blind, me especially, since I haven’t practiced anything.” You listed, “Not to mention we don’t have a song.”

She smiled brightly at your consideration, “Don’t worry, it’s a song you _definitely_ know. Remember Winter Festival of 2017?”

Your cheeks burned as the memory came to mind.

“That wasn’t even intended to be a dance. That was just _us_… being goofs.” You stammered.

“And look at how well it worked out in the end.” She clapped her hands together, “Please, I really need someone to perform with.”

You sighed in confliction, “We’ll embarrass ourselves.”

“That’s a risk I’d be willing to take. They’re paying me to _dance_. It shouldn’t matter if one’s _a _bit_ unconventional_.” She answered, draping and arm over your shoulder.

“I’ll think about it.” You breathed, looking over at the crowd surrounding the dancefloor.

“You have about a minute to decide.” She informed before disappearing into the growing crowd.

You closed your eyes with a low head as your morals competed with logic. Elia wouldn’t have asked if wasn’t desperate. Her backup plans must have already fallen through. She’s willing to take a chance, regardless if you both look like total fools. You owed it to her to at least try.

_Please don’t let me regret this!_

You quickly cut into the crowd, making your way onto the dancefloor. Elia stood up front, waiting with a knowing smile while holding your hat and matching coat. She passed them for you to slip on. After the wardrobe addition, you stepped with her toward the center. Swing music began to play. The beat was somewhat different from the festival, coming from a band and not a prerecorded song on speakers. You did your best to remember the moves from the festival wing tipped shoes shuffling as you struggled keep up with Elia. It didn’t take long for you to finally find your rhythm and truly begin to dance. You two danced a mixture of the Quick Step and Charleston, stepping around the dancefloor. Like all dances of the early twentieth century you told the story of a woman catching a someone’s eye. The dance turned into a game of cat and mouse before sliding into a standstill when you pretended to lose interest. Predictably, the dance became a comedic competition in narration, ending in a draw of having her dip you instead of the other way around. Relieved you weren’t booed off the floor, you both took a bow and hugged during the applause before going your separate ways. That wasn’t how you expected to spend your free time away from modelling, but you had a blast nonetheless.

Though your heart thumped strongly in your chest from the exhilaration, you were still tired. Robin would probably be looking for you soon. You decided to look for a bathroom to freshen up in. You weren’t sweaty, but a good splash of water on your face would definitely wake you up more.

The search for a latrine was on. There was no way you’d wander off without a map in this huge mansion. You managed to corner a server and ask for directions. Instead of something easy like exiting a room to a second or third door on your right, he gave you directions like you were exploring a labyrinth. You managed to follow _some _of the directions to go up the stairs… past the second hall… and take a left toward the second door on the right. You were relieved you didn’t have a full bladder or else this would have been a nightmare.

After finally finding the bathroom and taking care of business, you began wandering back, only to become horribly lost. You could have sworn that last hallway would have brought you to the stairwell. You took another right and reached a dead end.

_Well, crap._

Could you be trapped here for days? You chuckled at the thought of one of the skeletons finding the skeletal remains of a lost human guest. Realistically, that wouldn’t happen, but one of the skeletons finding you wandering the halls at two in the morning was a possibility. You turned down another hall, hoping to see some type of landmark. As luck would have it, you did, however, it wasn’t one you hoped to see yet. A small balcony lied in a doorway down one of the halls. You peeked out to see the dining room filled with guest. You admit you were looking for a way back _down_ to the dining room, but jumping down in the public eye was out of the question. You sighed, watching the small crowds mingle between tables while others danced on the dancefloor. Poor Elia was currently dragging around an old man, twisting him to do the Cha-Cha; surprising you couldn’t hear the cracking of his hips from your perch.

“Excuse me.” You looked over your shoulder to see two young women peeking from the doorway.

_Civilization, at last! _Your mind wept.

You stood up from leaning against the rails to face them fully.

“You’re that performer that just danced, right?” one asked.

You gave them a small nod.

“You were great!” the other cheered, “The way you swayed and stepped… and the funny tricks weren’t bad either.”

“Uh… thanks?” you were at a lost for words at having two random people fawning like a bunch of fangirls, “If you want to learn any dance moves, head over to Elia Kucherov’s Dance Studio downtown.” Might as well send some willing students Elia’s way.

You spoke for a few minutes with the two to find out one was visiting their aunt here in Dristal and got lucky enough to be dragged along. The conversation went into a fun direction with your thoughts wondering how to ask the embarrassing question as to how they got up to your location.

“What on earth are you doing, Amelia?” An old voice droned down the hall.

You exited back into the hall to see Ms. Margaret Belton standing by the door. Her aqua eyes stared you down in condescending disgust like you were some rodent that fell into her soup, pompous demeanor almost putting Mr. Black’s to shame.

“Ms. Marge.” You breathed with a forced smile, “it’s nice to see you’re still… _persisting_.”

She stood tall, unmoved by your stabbing comment.

“Amelia, do you know who you are speaking to?” she asked her, ignoring your presence for the time being.

“Uhm, well Aunt, I believe he is one of the performers-?” she tried to guess, only for Ms. Margaret to interrupt her.

“Unimportant. This _thing_ is no one.” She pulled her by the arm, away from you, the other girl following closely behind, “Your mother sent you here to learn etiquette and manners; to live up to our family name. That includes _staying in your lane_. We do not meld with pests.”

She pushed them in the opposite direction from you. The two left, Amelia peeking over her shoulder to give you an apologetic look. You sent her a half smile in acceptance, pitying her for even having some type of lineage to someone as black hearted as Ms. Margaret. The old woman stopped, allowing the two to move on ahead, out of hearing range, before turning to you with an accusing glare.

“My sources have informed me of your budding relationship with our city’s new citizens.” Her eyes looked your form over, “I, myself, am not racist to humans or a species by any name. However, I do believe rats shouldn’t engage in the affairs of people. You have no purpose meddling in a world you do not belong in. Must I refresh your memory as to why?”

_So that’s what this is about…_

Ms. Margaret, being one of the few people who knew your true gender, had been the main reason you were seen as some sort of a pariah for the longest time. Both she and her rich cohorts had tarnished your reputation simply for the way you acted, lived, and dressed.

Ms. Margaret was a disciplined and power-hungry woman with a scandalous past. Her story was the basic rags to riches bit with a rich man taking her in forty years ago for her beauty. Over time she learned to adapt to the higher-end of society, soaking in the lessons of etiquette and fine living. She lived a happy life for five years until her husband grew sick and eventually died, leaving her his estate. It wasn’t long before she caught another man’s eye and married into yet _another_ rich family. But this is where her innocence died out… She was getting older; younger women were a nonstop competition when having a new husband with wandering eyes. This forced her to lie, cheat, and manipulate to simply stay in her husband’s good graces. When he finally passed on from an illness, he left her all of his money, having crossed his entire family out of the will. This looped on for four more marriages with her becoming more and more power hungry and cunning, outwitting all who opposed her and the family she married into. She was a nasty black widow, but a powerful one that none would dare question. She strived to make sure no one rose up from the bottom as she did, like a hypocrite. Her daughters were no better; spoiled brats to the core. If anyone were to deny them anything, they’d find a way to put you behind bars as revenge.

You never understood why she truly hated you. Was it the way you looked, your sometimes-carefree nature, or was it the fact that you chose to live in the poorer parts of town? Perhaps it your independence she disliked or the fact that you haven’t succumbed to greed as she had? She never gave you an answer. Even after learning her story, you couldn’t help but feel all her hatred toward you was based on a misunderstanding. You weren’t after anyone’s money; in fact, you made a life of your own without a sugar daddy/momma sending in checks to pay your bills.

“One born from nothing cannot become something. That is the natural order of things.” She said dismissively, continuing the way her niece left.

_Hypocrite_.

You leaned against the wall with a sigh.

“I wasn’t born from nothing.” You finally called out, causing the woman to stop, “Or else I wouldn’t exist.”

You smiled as her shoulders stiffened before she continued onward.

____

Papyrus exited his brother’s study with a navy-blue suit jacket in hand. He hummed in irritation over his brother’s laziness. Sans would probably forget his own head if it weren’t already attached to his spine. He continued in with a wide stride down another hall that led toward the stairs, only to stop at the sight of two humans conversing in the hallway. An odd sight, considering all humans were only allowed downstairs, unless…

_Perhaps They Need Assistance Finding The Lavatory_, Papyrus thought.

After all, they were trying to make a good impression on the humans of this city. He started to approach the two, only for one to begin leaving. Upon further speculation, Papyrus noted she was older than the other and with a high level of disciplined about her. A dull, tawny soul blinked like an old bulb about to go out in her chest as she left. Papyrus squirmed at the waves her soul sent out, dripping with a sickening greed and something else that made him want to gag. He’d been around plenty of humans to learn to ignore all the chimes and waves they sent out, but there just those specific ones that made him stop. He knew not all humans were good at heart, even a true loving soul was a rarity; not even his Little Pup, Frisk, had a pure soul. That was something he was used to. Monsters weren’t completely innocent either, regardless of their souls being made of love, hope, and compassion. But this human’s soul actually nauseated him, a feat he didn’t know one could achieve.

He looked to hear the smaller human call out their existence was made from something. He didn’t understand why that needed to be said, considering you were here after all. He dropped the subject for now and stood a few feet from the human who hadn’t seemed to notice him which was even more odd, considering he was the Great Papyrus. Anyone, human or monster, would instantly look up to him either out of fear or surprise. He was quite hard to miss, but you seemed lost, staring at a wall with a solemn look.

“Excuse Me, Small Human, Do You Require Assistance?” he asked, making sure his voice was controlled to a lower level of volume.

Humans tended to be high strung when it came to him and Edge speaking. Clearly, it wasn’t low enough, because you jumped a few feet in the air, wide eyes focused him as if you’d just seen Edge. It took a few moments for you to relax, flashing him an apologetic smile.

“Oh, sorry, I… didn’t see…” you took a deep breath and gave him a genuine smile.

His soul bounced off the walls of his rib cage as a fiery warmth pierced it. He froze, staring down at you for a few moments, unease slowly ebbing away your genuine expression.

“Uhm, sir, are you okay?” you asked with uncertainty.

His teeth lifted into an exuberant smile with his sockets gleaming in excitement. A soulmate! He found his soulmate!

_I must tell Sans!_

His hyped expression fell, seeing your confused form watching him. What about his human? Clearly you were in some kind of distress. He looked down the hall, in the direction where the older human left.

_Did that human… hurt you?_

From what he could see, you lacked any injuries; physical ones, at least…

He rested a hand on your shoulder, “Are You Alright?”

You kept staring at him with that confused look, “…Yes? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He then picked you up into a gentle hug, minding his brother’s coat. Instead of hugging him back, your body stiffened more into a nearly statuesque state. He could practically feel the confusion in your stiff form. How could he have forgotten humans weren’t attuned to their souls? You had no idea what was going on. With his magic burning his cheeks, he gently lowered you back to the ground.

“Apologies, Human.” He rung his hands together nervously, “It’s Just… You Looked Lost After That Human Left And…” he trailed off, gauging your reaction.

Like a light bulb, you face broke from an uncomfortable state to that genuine smile again. Your strength was admirable, but your eyes still held a tinge of sadness. He wanted to pry and ask why, but kept his mandible shut. It was too soon to ask such personal questions after just meeting.

“Oh, that old hag?” you pointed your thumb toward the way she left, “Nah, she’s not worth my tears. I’m fine. Just dealing with rich jerks.” You paused, wide eyes shooting back at him with a nervous reaction, “HUMAN. I meant _human_ jerks. Not that there aren’t other types, just…”

Papyrus smiled at your nervous rambling, gently laying his hand atop your hair to give your head a comforting pet. Your words instantly grew silent on contact, accepting it without any fuss.

“Uhm, there is one thing I do need help with.” You said hesitantly.

“But Of Course, The Great Papyrus Will His Do His Best To Assist In Any Way Possible.” He held himself in the highest regard as a questionable wind blew his brother’s jacket hanging in his arms.

“Could you point me in the direction of the stairs? I sort of got turned around.” You asked, clearly embarrassed.

“Not A Problem, Small Human.” He answered, “The Stairs Are Just Beyond That Hallway To The Right.”

Papyrus smiled proudly that he could help his soul mate. Your eyebrows furrowed as your repeated his instructions aloud. After clearing your throat, you shined a grateful smile his way.

“Thanks, Papyrus… Uhm- Would you mind if I…” you trailed off creeping forward to softly grab onto his shirt.

With a gasp of immediate understanding he quickly gave you an accepting nod. You gently, and rather slowly, wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting on his torso. Papyrus gently pet you on the head, grateful for the deep hug after just meeting. That is, until you started screaming into his torso like a banshee. Just as questions began to fill his mind, he pulled you off to reveal your gasping form.

It took you a second, but you smiled at him apologetically, “Sorry, sorry. It’s just…” you gestured toward the hall that led to the stairs, “You have no idea how worried I was, thinking I’d be stuck here until two in the morning.”

Silence filled the room for long seconds. Only his chuckle escaping his skull livened the quiet halls again. He didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just, the thought of a human being stuck in the hallway for hours amused him. These halls, like most monster architecture, were designed to be puzzle, but a very simple one at best. He was sure you’d find the exit in a few minutes without his help… Hopefully.

“I can’t believe I was so close.” You pouted.

His chuckles grew to laughter at your childishly distraught face, admiring your youthful personality. It wasn’t as immature as Blue’s, thankfully, but held a determined air of independence toward new challenges faced. He wondered if you liked other types of puzzles, aside from mazes (since they clearly weren’t you forte).

“That’s right, laugh it up, wise guy.” You playfully threatened with a smile on your face.

“Apologies, Nyeh Heh-Heh-Heh, I Just Can’t Picture Many Humans Becoming Lost Here.”

“What can I say, I’m just as bad as Columbus.” You winked.

He tilted his skull at that. Yes, he had heard that name before when Frisk attended the school for tiny humans. They read the human actually went in the opposite direction on his oceanic quest. Why you thought comparing yourself to that human as an accomplishment was beyond him.

Though he had fun having a nice discussion with his little human. he had to get his brother’s coat to him as soon as possible, or else that lazy bones will try get out of attending the party altogether.

“Shall We Go, Small Human-?” he stopped, remembering an important question he forgot to ask, “Human, I Never Got You Name. I Am The Great Papyrus, As You Already Know.”

You thought about it for a long moment, making him wonder if you intended giving him your real name at all, then smiled his way with eyes full of mirth.

“The Turned Around and Hopelessly Lost (Y/N).” you said matter-of-factly.

He smiled at your honest title.

_(Y/N), a beautiful name_.

He was sure he’d remember it. As you both set off down the hall, many questions began swimming in his skull, particularly one about your sad state. Though he was still the Great Papyrus, he was also the Valiant Gunner of the Underground. It was clear you had enemies, something him and his brother were usually hired to take care of. At his core, he was a gentle skeleton, but don’t think for a second he wouldn’t bat a socket toward breaking a few kneecaps when his job called for it. But first, he had to get this coat to his lazy boned brother, then he’d begin researching into the city folk that held animosity toward you, starting with that small old human.

____

You enjoyed talking with Papyrus, though it was short, the tall skeleton was a treat. Unlike the others, he listened intently without that predatory look in his sockets. His personality was sunshine incarnate. Aside from his semi loud volume, you still found yourself smiling his way.

You felt a tinge of embarrassment for screaming on him, but… he was the only thing around with a questionably comfortable torso… Like a pillow.

_Don’t question it, (Y/N), your brain will melt._

Long story short, your logic went out the window that time. Silver lining, your stress is more so relieved while your half drowsy state dwindled to slightly tired. You smiled as you entered back into the dining hall, eyes searching for Robin, not looking forward to a possible scolding for your long absence.

You quickly found her mint green dress and happily began walking to her side, only to stop at the sight of who she was talking to. A male monster made of violet fire looked down at her as they conversed. You didn’t care he was a monster, but your instincts flared he was a threat without need of his scent. The way he stared down at her was almost identical to how Robin eyed a strawberry sundae before wolfing it down.

_Red alert, red alert!_ Your thought yelled.

You waited for Robin to leave and continue moving about the crowd. Once she was far enough, you approached the fiery elemental, instantly putting on your best innocently, respectful act.

“Hello.” You greeted him, “I’m (Y/N). You were just talking to my boss. I’m modelling a suit she just designed.”

“Brimstone. Pleasure to meet you. She didn’t mention a strapping young man like yourself would be showing off her work.” His voice rasped and crackled through flames.

A flame hand was held out toward you. With a confident smile, you hand gripped his with a strong shake.

“Thank you. That’s very nice of you-”

His grip tightened around your hand, stopping your words instantly as he pulled you closer to lean down enough for you to hear.

“This is supposed to be the part where you threaten me, right?” you flinched at that, resulting in a raspy chuckle, “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you watching?”

You dropped the act, sending a wry smile his way, “Well, I honestly was hoping for a _civil_ conversation, but since you’ve already broken the ice…”

His wheezed laugh blew warm air over you. You flinched at the feeling of your hand becoming increasingly hot.

“Civil…? As if a demon knew the definition of the word.”

“Let go of me, before you burn my suit, Inferno Walker.” You warned.

His mouth, moving like lava, smiled with a sinister gleam. Elementals, though mostly peaceful, could really be a piece of work to deal with, whether monster or demon.

_Okay, time for Plan B._

“If you know what I am, then you know I can easily take you out if you try anything.” You looked to your side, “What say you, Inferno Walker; should I use the fire extinguishers the servers keep under the tables or should I simply encase you in ice?”

His yellow flames for eyes narrowed at you.

An epiphany then came to mind, “Oh, how about I burn you into actual Brimstone and ash? Then you can finally live up to your name.”

He finally released your hand with a glower.

“Atta boy.”

A warped growl escaped his chest at that.

“Right, let’s get to the point. Stay away from Robin. If you truly know what I am, then you know what we do to those who attack what’s ours. Robin is under my protection.” You straightened your coat, looking over the sleeves to thankfully see no scorch marks, “Well, I don’t think there’s a need to repeat threats.” You flashed him a fake smile as you pat his shoulder and moved toward the crowd, “Nice talking with you, Mr. Brimstone.”

Having seen a table with a pyramid stack of filled champagne glasses, you lightly gestured your hand above your shoulder to look like you were waving. A second later, a crash of glass and loud steam could be heard, followed by a pained, raspy roar. You didn’t look back once, as you became encased by the overlooking crowd.

You felt no guilt threatening that monster. When you saw him around Robin, you didn’t see a drop of consideration in his flames, only an animal eyeing its next prey. The scenarios that came to mind on how this could play out involved your friend missing from the party then calling you from a payphone asking for help. That wasn’t a risk you willing to make a possibility. You wouldn’t tell her, no. She’d probably call you an overprotective dork for doing so. But this monster _knew_ what you were and that made him even higher on your list of people to look out for.

You set your mind on temporarily dropping the avalanche of stress forming in the back of your mind, moving on to gaze upon the many tables filled with food. It’s one night where you could splurge on expensive food, no harm in going all out.

A table covered in a silk violet tablecloth, decorated in black and white web-like decorations, was caught in your peripheral vision. Two purple monsters with multiple arms sat behind it. One had smooth shortcut hair and was dressed in an expensive dark violet vest with a stark white dress shirt underneath that covered all six of their arms. Four lensed glasses hung over their nose to for each gleaming black eye. She smiled your way, revealing long fangs. The other however dressed slightly more elegantly, wearing a spider themed frilly-dress with shades of purple and black web designs peppering where you could see. Comparing her fine clothing to the table, it was clear her touch had been mostly added to it. They smiled as you approached the table to gaze at their wares. Pastries galore were stacked on top of the long table.

_To splurge, or not to splurge_, you mind chimed while eyeing the food, _To splurge indeed._

“Ahuhuhu~ Welcome dearie.” The elegantly dressed one greeted you, “Would you like to try a spider doughnut?”

You smiled at the name following through with their theme. “Sure, I would love to.” Your eyes looked over the rest of the table to see cupcakes, jelly doughnuts, and chocolate drizzled croissants.

_Would it be rude to ask for one of everything on one plate? _

You swore you wouldn’t waste a crumb. Everything looked both like a work of art and tasty-

Your smile faltered when a spider scurried across the table. Then three more. Before you knew it a whole crowd of spiders took over the tabletop. You fought hard to not turn tail and run, arachnophobia showering your body with adrenaline. Your legs shook as spiders brought the doughnut to you. Hesitantly, you took it with a shy thank you. A lone spider hung onto the wrapping. Panicking, you put the top of your hand underneath it with a small apology and shakily held it up to the table so it could disembark. It wouldn’t leave your hand. You looked to the two monsters for help, then back the spider, fighting back a whimper. All three stared your way in waiting.

_Alright, (Y/N). It’s okay. Just endure it for the food._

You looked over the wrapping to make sure there were no more spiders and took a bite of the spider doughnut. Relief washed over like a tidal wave, pushing your arachnophobia further down into your subconscious. You gratefully took another bite. The food tasted great, dissolving on your tongue like pop rocks and filling your mouth with explosive flavor.

“Oh, my stars, THIS IS AMAZING!” you stared at the doughnut in awe.

The elegantly dressed monster giggled at your expression prompting the spider to finally disembark back to the table. A cup was then pushed in front of you.

“Try some Spider Cider.” The one dressed in a vest eyed you with a dare.

You shrugged, feeling brave and grabbed onto the cup. In seconds, ten spiders climbed onto of your sleeve, travelling up to your shoulder. You nearly froze, shakily bringing the cup mechanically to your lips- A spider sat on the side of the cup, staring back at you.

_So much for bravery_, your mind grimaced.

In order to prevent you from screaming, you closed your eyes, gulping down most of the cup. The carbonated liquid dissolved before hitting your throat, sending warmth throughout your body. It was delicious. The spiders soon scampered off after you congratulated her on a delicious cup of cidery goodness.

You apparently passed both their tests, earning their names. The elegantly dressed one called herself Muffet while the other introduced herself simply as Muff. Together they ran a chain of bakery cafes called Muffet’s and decided to show off their goods at the skeleton’s party before they opened a new one in Dristal the following year. That was an interesting tid-bit. You were sure Robin would be ecstatic to try monster pastries.

A tip jar at the corner of the table suddenly caught you eye with writing: **For Spiders, By Spiders, Of Spiders**. It took your mind a second to decipher the slogan, before eyeing the last of the spider doughnut.

_So, they’re made out of spiders?_

You looked up to see movement on the table. A spider had moved a filled cup of cider your way and waved, _actually waved_.

_Monster spiders…_

With an acceptant shrug as you popped the last piece of the pastry into your mouth and drank the last of the cider you currently had. Gently, you set the cup beside the waving spider and took the fresh cup with a shy wave. Your eye locked on the tip jar as your mind reached a decision.

_Eh, there is zero chance of me getting drunk tonight, anyway_.

You sunk your hand into your pocket and took out a twenty you planned on using at the bar… once you’d found it. Considering how big the room was, you’d be travelling an odyssey by sea before finding a bar. With a kind smile, you passed it to Muff, earning a toothy grin as she added the bill to the jar and offered an array of pastries to try. You left the table with a small, in monster standards, plate filled with five different pastries and continued your travels throughout the huge room.

Robin soon caught your eye, waving you over. She was currently speaking with two skeletons you hadn’t met yet. One was tall and lanky like Rus, but held a lazy down to earth vibe as he leaned against the wall with an orange suit jacket draped over his shoulders. His amber vest was quite dazzling, its metallic hue reflecting in the surrounding lighting with a crisp white dress shirt underneath, top button undone without a tie. His tan slacks, though not usually seen at cocktail parties, brought his suit together with the hickory belt and loafers. An odd combination that worked so well for him.

The other skeleton was much shorter, possibly shorter than Mr. Black. His baby blue eye lights were very attentive and complimented his confident smile. His skull was round, similar to Mr. Blacks, but without a scar carved into it. Unlike Sans who had a round muscular build, this skeleton had a small, fit, build with slimmer hips. His cyan suit told as much, fitting around his arms as if he had muscles underneath. A white dress shirt and metallic gray vest hugged around his physique, not tightly, but snug enough to give his fit stature shape. Compared to the other’s suit, his was organized and tidy with every button and cuff in place as it should be.

You stood by Robin and soon exchanged pleasantries, shaking the two skeleton’s hands and learning their names. The tall one was called Stretch while the shorter one lived up to his attire with the name Blue, whose grip lingered longer than necessary.

Robin’s eyes finally noticed your plate, “What are those?”

Seeing a chance, you glanced a conniving eye her way, “Monster pastries.”

Her face lit up with immediate attention as you passed her a purple cookie covered in white webs made out of frosting. The first bite was enough for her revel in its flavor and begin nibbling it like a wood-chipper. Her hand then grabbed hold of your and pulled you down to her level, a semi-serious expression darkening her features.

“Where?” she ordered.

_And… checkmate_.

You gave her a small smile, pointing toward the wall across the room with tables of food stacked around, “Purple chic table with two spider monsters.”

“I’ll be right back.” She hurried off.

Your chuckled at her rushing form weaving through the crowds with purpose before turning back to the two skeletons.

“Sorry about that. Before we continue, how about, instead of flaunting my _goods_ around, you ask questions about the suit and I’ll answer with what I know.” You offered.

“_slacks-_ing off already? seems this job doesn’t _suit_ you.” Stretch pointed out with a lazy smile.

Blue’s eye lights immediately went out, turning his skull to face Stretch.

“Brother! This Is No Time For Puns!” he scolded rambunctiously.

Stretch gave a simple shrug toward his brother’s uproar.

You chuckled at that, “Aw, cut me some _slacks_.” You said, taking a bite out of a spider doughnut, “Besides, we’re already _glazin’_ around, might as well take it easy.”

Blue’s eye lights return as his skull whipped around to shoot you a look of betrayal while his brother chuckled.

“It’s Too Late, You’ve Already Tainted Him.” Blue deflated.

You laughed at that, tucking a hand into your slack’s pocket, “Nah, you can blame Sans for that. He’s the one who’s been keeping me on my toes every time we meet.”

Something about your reply managed to snap Stretch out of his splendor and bring Blue to attention. Did you say something wrong? You shook your head at the uncomfortable atmosphere forming between the three of you and decided to just let honesty be your guide.

“Look, I just had a dance recital, ran a maze, and faced my arachnophobia head on over the past thirty minutes…”

You paused looking back to where Robin left.

_Should I have told her about the spiders_?

You didn’t hear any screams. Maybe she was fine? You turned back to the skeletons.

“I’m just tired.” You tied up to the point, “Any questions about the suit?”

____

Blue was bewildered when his brother told him he had seen a _unique_ human at the party. At first, he considered it a warning to look out for a mage in their midst until he met you…

He’d been going usual rounds around the dining room with his brother, keeping his smile in place around humans wallowing in greed while acting weak for a piece of their wealth in more ways than one. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t give these humans a second out of his day, but, as he’s learned, actions and appearances speak louder than words. If his family wanted to make a foothold in this city, they would have to start small with the top percent before spreading out. Getting sick of the monotony, he nearly dropped his happy expression and snapped at the seventh woman asking if he’d be interested in her oldest daughter or son. Stars, these humans were willing to throw anything his way just to get in good graces with his family.

Only one human, so far, had stood out from the rest; small human in a mint cocktail dress and a professional smile. She was here to sell just like the rest, but did so with more self-respect, nearly flooring him in surprise. He kept up his kind demeanor, allowing her to defend her worth. She was a designer slowly making it up in the world, working under Black, no less; another surprise that nearly threw him off balance.

_Since When Did Blackberry Accept Apprenticeships? _

She continued on about her recent design gesturing to own dress and mentioning a suit someone was currently modelling around at the moment. A stream of luck came her way when she found who she was looking in the faraway crowds and waved them over.

It didn’t take long for him to finally understand what his brother meant. As soon as he made eye contact, his soul skyrocketed up his rib cage. Of all the places to find his soulmate; right under his own roof. He couldn’t help but jump at the chance to introduce himself, mind itching to blurt out questions to achieve full knowledge in every detail about you. Your name was (Y/N), a name that flowed fluently off of his tongue. You were a sight for sore eyes, a diamond amongst coal in your zoot suit.

He questioned if you were lazy as you schemed to send your friend away for Muffet’s pastries. His claims were nearly made true as you informed you simply wanted to discuss the suit rather than just model it. It sounded efficient, yet lazy, something his brother would pull to only half finish a job. To further shatter his high opinion of you, you then began throwing puns with his brother. He didn’t miss the wave of happiness his brother’s soul sent out. His mind went into overdrive concerning the reaction. Theories swimming in his skull were brought to light once you mentioned Classic had “kept you on your toes” when it came to puns.

_…No… NO. N O, N O, **N O !**_

You were supposed to be his and _only_ his! He tried his best to keep from stomping on the ground in front of you. Alas, he should have seen this coming. When their dimensions merged, it was _only_ the underground that was affected; a stretched country under a mountain. This was mainly Classic’s dimension. Of course, you’d be his by default. But to _all_ of them? Having all brothers as your soulmate was too hard to believe? That fact saddened him. If he was tethered to you here in a world unaffected by merging dimensions, then would he have had a soulmate back in his world? Would another you even exist?

He dropped the depressing subject as you listed off an excuse to your refusal to model, mentions of a recital catching his attention

“You Performed Here Recently?” he asked.

You shuffled your wingtip dress shoes along the floor with an embarrassed smirk, “Yeah, one of the first, actually.

He’d heard about that from some of the onlookers. They called it a fun-time act that filled the room with a short bout of enjoyment.

“Wish I Could Have Seen It.” He cast you one of his cute smiles, “I Heard You Danced Very Well. Where Did You Learn?”

You rubbed the back of your head, a nervous quip, “Actually, I’m not the best dancer; not without practicing a million times. With any other dance, I have two left feet.”

Your body language, though fluent, was fake and forced as you voiced your modesty. It was clear, from what he heard, you were gifted, yet you were lying.

“Why Are You Pretending?” his voice demanded.

He wished he could pull the words back into his skull. His demeanor had slipped.

You stopped, shocked for a moment, only to flash him an innocent smile, “What, it’s not like I’m a _fraud_ or something.”

He paused at the look on your face, seeing a familiar gleam in your eye.

_Was This…?_

He smiled widely at that, “Are You Insinuating Something?”

“Me?” you feigned ignorance, “No, I just find it odd to fake a smile over everything.”

_A CHALLENGE?_

You continued with a brief description of the absent half-lined suit jacket since it was taken at the door. With each sentence you casted him a knowing glance, body language meaning one thing while your eyes and words said another. He took to your challenge, asking questions about the suit. If anyone passed by, it would seem like you two were having a civil conversation, but realistically, it was a game masked wit. With each sentence you became more and more interesting, reading his looks as he deciphered yours. He loved it!

Once your little presentation was over with you relaxed and looked to the crowd for your absent friend before turning to him a slight frown.

“You know… there’s more to reactions than smiling.” You informed.

He gave you a forced smile in return, “That’s Easy For You To Say, Human.” While on the subject, he might as well educate you with whom you were dealing with, “Humans Tend To Become More _Trusting_ When They’re Around Something That Seems Weaker Than Them.”

It made things easier when dealing with both enemies and allies. He was a happy skeleton at heart, just more on a realistic scale than what he gave out in public. His underground, though not as dangerous as Red or Black’s, was still a harsh environment with intimidation and manipulation playing key roles to getting by. Only loved ones could be held closely to the chest. With anyone else usually ended in a dusty betrayal. He and his brother chose the intimidating route, while he personally chose to add a bit of cunning wits when dealing with a friend or foe.

You shook your head at his answer, looking toward the crowd of people, “You’re wrong. With _these_ types of people, a weak and feeble person is free game. They’ll walk all over you once they get the chance.”

Blue admired your knowledge. You were right to a degree. Humans could become cruel creatures, taking down the weakest link without a second glance like a pack of rapid dogs. But a fox can easily outsmart stupid dogs. Though your words held true, he had no intention of lowering his mask, even for his soulmate. At least, until he got to know you better. Not to mention, the reason he was really doing this was to progress the plan as far as he could tonight.

“Thank You For Your Concern, But I Think I’ll Stick You What I Know.” He answered.

You shrugged at that, “Suit yourself. Just… don’t forget who you are. Keep doing that long enough and it’ll become harder to discern the real you from the fake.”

Blue felt his smile nearly fall, “Speaking From Experience?”

You chuckled bitterly, “As the saying goes: Takes one to know one.”

You shook your head, bitter smile morphing into a genuine one. The action made Blue frown. He finally understood what you were doing; trying to be a mirror and sway him. Is that how you saw him, as someone wearing a smile but always frowning? He admits he plays it on a bit too thick at times, but he wasn’t unhappy…

_What’s Under Your Mask?_ He wondered.

You picked up a purple cupcake covered blue frosting with yellow sprinkles from your plate and passed it his way.

“Here, a peace offering. I know you can get one yourself but… Robin might have already taken as much as she can carry. She’s really into monster food.” You laughed.

He gingerly took the small cupcake that seemed big in your hands. You were a smart, fragile human. _His_ human. He smiled, marveling at the small pastry. He didn’t care the others had a bond with you. He was sure he could catch your soul through nice gestures and courting. By the time you bonded, you’ll have favored him most. He was sure of it.

“Would you look at that, a real smile.” You smiled at him genuinely.

His magic burned his cheekbones at that.

“Relax, it looks good on you.” You teased.

You then picked up another cupcake, this time with caramel swirled frosting, and held up for his brother to take.

“pass.” He dismissed you.

Blue sighed. He hated it when he did this. Even with him being the older twin, his brother felt the need to block negativity like a wall. You had not hurt him in any way. In fact, he had fun during your game of wits. As usual his brother was overreacting.

“Jeez, it’s not going to melt your face off. Or are you afraid of cavities?” You made chicken sounds, ending with a sly smile, unmoved by his brother’s hardened glare. After an exasperated sigh, Stretch eventually took the cupcake.

You chuckled at that turning to him, “I think I’m growing on him.”

Blue smiled at your optimism.

“Well, it’s been fun gents, but… I’m pretty sure one of you wants to smite me, so, I’m gonna go. Feel free ask Robin any unanswered questions about the suit… _if she_ comes back.”

Blue frowned at your leaving, about to grab your hand, only to be stopped by his brother’s on his shoulder.

____

You weren’t expecting on having a deep conversation with Blue and Stretch. It seemed to start off so well with puns and jovial banter, but then you began to notice something about Blue that just didn’t add up. His teeth were always in a still, perfectly crescent smile. You knew Sans, who held a similar placid smile could move, straighten, and frown depending on his mood. But Blue… he was like a robot, eye lights keeping unwavering eye contact with you. It was only after you tried to pass off your dancing prowess that he finally showed a few shades of his true colors. They so far seemed a bit bratty and demanding, almost ordering you to explain yourself when you wouldn’t admit to knowing how to dance. It’s not like you could say you had over two hundred years of experience. As you got him to chip away more of his mask, you found he was hiding.

You instantly felt pity for the skeleton. Even with his kind out in the open with citizen rights to live freely, he still felt the need to follow the human norm that people stronger than the majority had to make themselves look weak like a baby animal in order to fit in. Hiding himself amongst the rich folk in this room was not the best option.

His taller brother was not necessarily a nightmare to deal with, but a tool to his brother’s bratty nature. His easy-going nature had practically evaporated once you called Blue out on his act. With every passing moment, his amber eye lights pierced your being with contempt. Was it so bad to ask Blue to be honest with himself? Though, you were being a bit too honest. An affect from not having enough sleep.

That conversation made you think. You’ve spent so long hiding your true self and intentions under a mask of generosity, skepticism, and sarcasm, only able to truly be yourself during week-long trips. Even among friends you’ve created a persona that’s built on restriction. Emotions were just something you didn’t allow yourself to show without being filtered.

You sighed, leaning on a wall farthest from the large crowds of people with your last pastry, a chocolate drizzled croissant. This was supposed to be simple, yet in the first hour, you’ve already had an adventure of maze running, threatening an inferno, and having a deep conversation of inner honesty.

_Did I walk into a movie or something? All that’s left is a movie star giving me a pep talk._

How did a modelling gig turn into this?

Just at the corner of your eye you saw two women, one being Genevieve Belton, one of Satan’s wife’s children. She stood by a table full of drinks, talking to the other woman with a self-centered flair. Beautiful Lady Luck graced you with a chance for entertainment. The two women were standing on the grates of a floor vent. The skeletons _actually_ built their house with floor vents. This was almost too good to be true.

You smiled at the opportunity. Opening your palm, face up, you pointed your fingers their way. Magic jostled at your fingertips as you blew their way, resulting in the vent becoming active and blowing tremendous amounts of air from below the two oblivious targets. Like a parachute gone awry, their dresses shot up, revealing thinly laced underwear. You sputtered at the sight, covering your mouth to muffle your laughs.

“having fun?” a familiar voice rasped.

You turned to see Rus leaning on the wall beside you, eye lights giving you that intense stare. He looked nice tonight wearing a dark brown suit with a light saffron dress shirt and burnt orange tie. Unlike your first meeting where he had a on a dress shirt with a few buttons lazily undone, he was actually dressed crisp and clean. You had an inkling Mr. Black had a say in his attire due to how many guests they were hosting.

You snickered the last of your laughs away.

“Oh, come on. Tell me you don’t find this the least bit hilarious.” You gestured at the girls still standing on the vent, trying to get their dresses down, “It’s obvious they weren’t planning on going home tonight.” You cast him with a side glance.

His eye lights flashed from you to the growing crowd watching the scene and back with a raised bone brow in question. You turned to watch, shaking your head with a smirk.

_Well that gave me some insight_.

You broke the croissant in half and offered it to him. Both of you stood, snacking, as the two composed themselves back to a presentable level in front of the crowds with expressions shrouded in confusion and anger. You relaxed from the fun atmosphere, in your opinion, leaning against Rus in contemplation on what to do next.

“’this a normal occurrence?” he finally asked.

“Nope.” You enunciated with a chuckle, “I rare… _rarely_ use magic in public areas.”

Rus turned you to him, eye lights scanning you closely. Clawed phalanges gripped your chin to turn your head left and right, stopping when his eye lights grew in recognition.

“stars, doll face, how gone are you?” he asked.

You squinted at him in offense, “I am _tired_, not drunk. There's a difference.” Your head bobbed onto his torso, “But feel free to tell people I’m drunk.”

He gently pushed you off him and held you steady, keeping eye contact.

“did you eat anything other than monster pastries?” he asked seriously.

You laughed as his bone brows furrowed, “Nah…” you started before listing off the food you ate, “…And had some spider cider.”

He blinked at that, “how much?”

“What?”

“spider cider.” He shook you a little, “how much did you drink?”

You held up two fingers with a goofy smile.

____

Rus did his best to keep a straight face during your drunken state. You were sleep deprived _and_ drank two cups of monster alcohol. Though Spider cider was considered to be the equivalent of soda for monsters to drink freely, the beverage still held the same effects monster alcohol inflicted directly on the soul. Its effects were minimal at best to anyone with a sound soul. Your lack of sleep temporarily weakened your soul enough to be affected on an astounding level and you had no idea. You were a childish drunk, sense of judgment crumbling at the seams while committing pranks with your magic. He allowed you to lean on him while you sobered. Two cups would wear off in an hour or so. Until then, he would have to keep a close eye on you. Your eyes searched over the crowd in fascination before looking him over and grabbing his hand. All of your actions made zero sense. You stood, holding his hand without a care in the world, turning his hand over and playing with his phalanges.

“Heh, you don’t look like a skeleton.” You murmured.

“really…” his hand twitched in your grasp, “then what do i look like?”

“_Not _a skeleton.” You answered as if it was obvious.

Your hand stretched over his palm, taking up less than two thirds its width. You slapped it with a high five and laughed. Bringing his hand closer to your face, you scrutinized over the fused platelets that made up his phalanges.

“You know, if you were to hold up my hand under an x-ray, my hand wouldn’t even look close to yours.” You turned his hand over, “Mine would just be boney and weird, but yours actually look like… hands.” You continued looking over his hand like it was the best discovery made.

He squirmed at the contact, cheekbones faintly glowing with magic. Your soft touches made him want to purr. He pulled away his hand as soon as your small digits began rubbing around his wrist. If he allowed you to continue, he most likely would have taken advantage of your fragile state.

Your eyes wandered over the room before stopping by the stage.

“I spy trouble.” You grumbled.

He followed your gaze toward the stage to see the sound tech getting talked down by one of the younger guests, no doubt some money bag’s entitled son. The small tech had a feeble personality, easily oppressed into submission. Once the kid got what he wanted, he grabbed the tech’s hand and crumbled a few bills into it with a confident pat on the back. His eye lights dropped to your confident gaze.

“you can’t be serious.” he said in disbelief.

“Quiet, side kick. There’s sabotage afoot.”

He placed his hand on your head to stop you in tracks. You squirmed fatuously.

“Come on Rus.” You whined, “Don’t you wanna be a hero and save that damsel?”

_so, the tech’s a damsel now?_

“no.”

Why couldn’t you be a tired drunk and have fallen asleep? It would make looking after you so much easier. He considered the possibility of knocking you out before you did something stupid. You could sleep off the drunken spree in one of the lounges for all he cared. Problem solved.

“Every party needs a pooper, so it might as well be you.” You sang, “Party pooper, party pooper.”

You stuck your tongue out at him while you giving those sweet innocent eyes gleaming up at him like a begging puppy.

_stop while you’re ahead, doll face._

He swore the longer you were drunk, the more feminine you appeared to be. Seeing him begin to waver, you smiled in accomplishment.

“Alright! The Mighty (Y/N) and her sidekick Ruff-Ruff are on the case.”

He almost coughed at that.

_stars, is this what stretch went through with blue?_ He wondered, comparing his soft counterpart’s brother to your drunken state.

What in stars’ name did he get himself into? His brother better give him something as compensation for humoring your drunken state.

“Okay, simple plan: You get me close to the sound board and I’ll take care of the rest. Simple; in and out. What do ya say?” you stared at him as if waiting for constructional criticism.

He sighed, hugging you close and took a shortcut to a shadowed corner not far from the stage. You looked around, confused, then looked up with a squinted glare.

“A warning would have been nice.” You pouted.

He smirked, “…oops.”

He nodded toward the sound board on a high platform where the tech stood on a bench to reach. You made a face at the sight and mumbled something about it being a long year ahead before calmly making your way to the tech’s side to strike up a conversation. Your hand thrummed at the board’s edges as you talked for a minute, ending in you giving him a charismatic bye with a fast wave and heading back over to Rus.

“Let’s make a getaway Ruff-Ruff.” You willingly hugged him.

A small seed of hope grew from withered ashes in Rus, hoping you’d be able to act similarly toward him without the help of monster alcohol. His arm gently wrapped over your shoulder before shortcutting to your original spot. You quickly let go with a cheer.

“Mission accomplished, Rus.” You shot him a thumbs up, “Good job.”

You tucked your arms behind you, watching the stage like a spectator.

“what did you do?” he asked.

You held a finger to you lips with a wink, “Trade secret. Just wait and see.”

The lights suddenly dimmed as the band began to play a slow jazzy beat. Rus looked over at you to see your (E/c) eyes glowing. His hand instinctively covered your eyes, watching the crowds for any onlookers. Before long, a voice reached the speakers. Your friend, the little bird, had begun to sing. Rus paused as it all came together. So, she was the damsel. Were you able to hear those brats earlier?

You pried a phalange from over your eyes to peek through and continue the show. The song’s rhythm changed from to a rag-time tune. Rus was mildly impressed with her performance as she danced across the stage, lights flashing over her in stardom unison. A wire, that had been pulled taut close to the front of the stage, nearly tripped the little bird, however was caught to catch her step by his magic. If he was going to play the sidekick, he might as well follow through.

_what milord doesn’t know probably won’t hurt me. _

Technically, he was still following orders to watch over you, just with an extra factor.

By the end of the song the guests were roaring with applause. The tech, however, wasn’t so lucky, with more money-brats cornering him. Had you not been drunk, would you still have made the same decision, he wondered? Your damsel was saved, but at what cost?

You slumped onto him, weakly sliding his hand off your face, while the lights returned to normal. You looked worse than before, more tired than he felt. With a heavy sigh, you graced him with a tired sigh. Another act soon started with one of the women you pranked earlier. Like your friend, she sung. Only, her act became a quick disaster. Lights flashed in all the directions with bits of sound feedback. Rus looked down at you in questioning.

“Not… me.” You murmured, “…Spell… already… broken.” You could barely keep your eyes open.

The performance ended with the singer storming off stag and the sound tech nowhere to be found. Being one of the hosts and head of house security, he would have to look into it. Taking a wrapped piece of monster candy from his suit jacket, he tore off the plastic wrapping and popped the medium sized candy into your mouth. Your body would instantly absorb the healing magic and obtain a bit of energy from it. You’d be fine while he was gone for the time being. After setting you down in one of the cloth tabled stairs in the far corner, he disappeared.

____

You woke up to find yourself sitting at one of the dining room clothed tables. With a wide, tongue curling yawn, you stood up, looking for any familiar faces. Where was Rus? Feeling a sprouting headache coming on, you set out for the table filled with drinks. Water sounded like heaven right now.

Once the isle of drinks was found, you were suddenly surrounded by a group of men.

_Oh, come on._

Just feet away from that cold refreshing water and a high school riot surrounds you.

“Mind telling me what this is about?” you asked bluntly.

To answer your question, the princess of hell herself, Genevieve, came from between two the men, entering the small circle centered around you.

“You.” she pointed your way, eyes liner running down her cheeks like cursed tears, “You’re the one who did this to me!”

She looked like a wild animal ready to pounce. You tucked your hands behind you in remembrance of what she’s capable of. Before Genevieve could do anything, another man whom you recognized as the one bullying the tech. He straightened out his red blazer before facing you fully.

“Are you serious, _this_ is the guy?” he gave you an unimpressed look over, “He’s a complete nobody.”

You shrugged at that, “Not necessarily, but-”

“He did something to the stage equipment, I saw him.” She argued.

Your jaw dropped at her accusation as his eyes flashed from her to you.

“Hey, I didn’t-”

“And he blasted the vent below me.” She continued.

You paused for a moment, a smile pulling at the corners of your face.

“Okay, that was pretty funny.” You admitted.

You were immediately grabbed by the shirt by her so called boy toy lifted partially to your toes just inches from his hardened face.

“But it wasn’t me.” You quickly defended, “I was in the room the whole time.”

You were lying, but how could you possibly tell this meat heat you embarrassed his girlfriend with magic. Even with monsters living on the surface, that excuse would be considered a mouthful of crazy. Genevieve pushed on his arm with a demanding look.

“Look-” he stopped, peering closely at you, “Who are you?”

“He’s a mechanic.” One of them answered.

You looked behind the boy toy toward another young lad dressed as a complete douche.

“He worked on my corvette.” He clarified his knowledge under the rest’s gaze.

You smiled in realization, “The ’89 ZR? That was yours?”

He nodded.

“Dude, I had fun working on that. How’s the torque-?” you were shaken before you could continue.

“A mechanic?” the one holding you looked on in disbelief, “What the hell’s a mechanic doing at a party like this?”

You cleared your throat, “A-actually, I’m not a guest… just a… model.” The words sounded stupid once they left your mouth.

The group laughed at that.

“Yeah, ha-ha, it’s true. I have a dragon lady as a boss and everything. So, if you could _please_ put me down before your wrinkle my shirt, that would be _just_ dandy.” Your politeness held a bit of bite.

You really didn’t want to deal with these guys. Hopefully playing the polite card would make them leave you alone. No such luck. Your little _polite_-burst just made the group grow silent as the boy toy holding you gave a strained smile.

“Put you down.” He repeated.

You slowly nodded.

He slowly lowered you back down with you feel flat on the ground, slightly loosening his grip. Not too many wrinkles had formed on the suit. If you were lucky, Robin wouldn’t notice by the night’s end. Before you could react, he lifted and shoved you into the table of drinks. Before you could slid below the table-top, you grabbed onto its edges, resulting in the rest of the table and its contents to fall on top of you.

The group laughed at the sight as their leader kneeled down in front of you.

“What do you boys think?” he asked.

“Looks like we have a party crasher on our hands, Will.” Another answered.

Will grabbed you by the hair, pulling your dazed face up to look at him.

“He doesn’t so look so hot, boys. What say we tie up our little mechanic for the police and take him for a ride?”

“Sure, I’ve still got snow tire chains in my trunk.” Another answered.

____

Edge had finally arrived downstairs after having to change his attire… _twice_. That mongrel his good for nothing brother kept with him had chewed through a pair of his designer boots _and_ a polyester crimson vest. The beast was lucky Edge was low on time after he changed his attire for the final time, or else he’d take the time to hunt and skin the over-sized dog alive.

Upon entering from the foyer, he was met with silence. Looking over the silent crowd, he saw their attention was on his human who currently was surrounded and outnumbered. It seems he had already missed the fight. You looked done with an exhausted look. The group around you seemed to share a laugh at your demise as the male in the center, he discerned as the leader, held your head up by your hair saying something he couldn’t quite catch.

As he began lifting you up, a gasp escaped your lips. In desperation, you grabbed onto his wrist. Like a seesaw, the once boisterous male collapsed onto his knees with a growing whimper that turned into a pained yelp as you rose from your spot. It didn’t take long for Edge to realize you had twisted his wrist beyond its capabilities. You released him once you were on your feet, allowing him to curl up in a fetal position around his injury.

Edge smirked at your risen form. Strength and courage to get back into the fight were commendable feats in his sockets, weeding out the weak from the strong. He had questioned, on many occasions since your first meeting, if you were strong. Winning this fight would absolutely prove your worth. Crossing his arms, Edge stood watch over your progress during the inevitable fight. He expected a fist fight between bumbling idiots. Most humans he had been forced to fight didn’t know the first thing about combat, throwing their fists like rampant baboons. But this fight held strategy and controlled hits. You weaved past punches sent your way, blocking one to parry with a knee to one of the male’s gut. His favorite move he watched you pull had you running and jumping onto one of your assailants, wrapping your legs around their neck, and diving to the side to bring them down.

Although his height helped him see best, Edge moved further into the room to get a better angle of the fight. He leaned against the wall, coincidentally not far from his marshmallow swapped counterpart and his brother. Stretch sent him a side glance, arm shaking as his strong grip nearly wavered from holding Blue back. The blue runt was growling lowly, eye lights glowing threateningly to near flames. Humans kept a clear distance from his heated gaze. It was obvious the two now knew what you meant to all of them, making the entire household finally in the loop.

Frowning as the realism in sharing you came to light, he turned back to watch the fight. You had one of the males pinned on the floor with his arm behind his back. A loud pop reached him and the others as you dislocated his arm. Once standing from your kneeled position, you were punched in the jaw by another. One more came behind you, restraining your arms and legs. The assailants were finally working as a unit. Thinking fast you kicked one of your opponents as he charged toward your restricted form then threw your head back with as much force as you could muster, breaking the male’s hold on you and his nose. With a punch to the throat and a chop to the back of head, he fell numbly like a sack of potatoes. The last few of the group were child’s play, in your case. Two had ganged up on you, trying to attack you at the same time. With ease you dodged their swings, hitting them with moves of your own; from a punch in the ribs toward one to a two-punched slap in the face for the other. It became clear you were egging them on. In time, the fruits of your labor came to fruition with both sending a punch your way at the same time, only for you to duck, ending in them punching each other. Grabbing the back of their heads, you clanked them together, knocking them unconscious. They slumped from your grip, onto the glass covered floor with loud impacts. You smirked at that before ducking back down to kick the last assailant’s feet from under him. With quick prowess, you pushed his torso down, adding force before his body collided with the floor.

That seemed to be the end. All enemy fighters had been dealt with, leaving you the victor. Edge restrained himself to yell out your victory, hiding his prideful smile beneath his gloved hand. In his dimension, fighting was the only way to solve any discrepancy, most ending with someone dusting. He nearly forgot this world didn’t hold violence in the same regard, finding it distasteful. With crossed arms, he watched you kneel by the leader.

Uncaring to who was listening, you tilted you head to the side and said, “Remember this moment the next time you think about chaining someone up.”

Edge’s sockets narrowed at your words. The human had tried to take you… in chains? He’d have to make an example of this fool for touching what clearly doesn’t belong to him. Though the situation had been taken care of, he didn’t mind adding a few holes to enforce a few more lessons. Unlike you, he wasn’t a merciful type.

You stood up and grabbed a napkin off a nearby table to wipe of whatever blood your knuckles had accumulated during the skirmish. Only then did you finally notice the silent room of eyes staring your way. After discarding the bloodied napkin behind you, a sigh escaped as you shook your head and walked back to the foyer without a word. He spotted Mutt giving someone a nod. After a minute, he heard the front door shut, bringing life back to the room as loud murmuring.

**-|-**

_____

You stumbled through the downtown streets, out of breath from running, stopping to lean against the side of an alley. Your hands clawed at the wall as you rested your head against it. Slow taps from your fingertips soon grew to slaps against the brick then fisted pats, climaxing to a fist through the wall. Broken bricks littered the ground as you gasped for air.

_Keep it together, (Y/N). Don’t you dare cry, _you ordered yourself. _You’re stronger than this. They aren’t worth your tears._

Old memories, once kept buried behind your mind clawed to the surface as you remembered those foul men’s words. Suddenly the air felt to difficult to breath like a collar had been wound around your neck too tightly. Your memories danced across your field of vision. A dark room soon filled your vision with a rusted table at the center. You shuddered at the sight, remembering the smell of rotting flesh and sound of unforgiving screams.

** _Collars… Chains… No sunlight… Cold Bodies… Too many knives…_ **

The scenery changed to a patch of a forest outside of a courtyard. Blood littered the dirt at your feet. You squeezed your eyes shut as mixed whispers of forgotten voices fill your ears.

** _Chains… no mercy… starvation… forced to fight… torture-_ **

Not able to take much more you screamed as loudly as you could, turning the dark memories into white noise. You slumped against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm down. Minutes droned on as you remained unmoving, breaths slowing back to normal.

“Hey, man, you got the time?” a deep raspy voice asked you from behind.

Your form stiffened as you barely looked over your shoulder toward the man. When you didn’t answer, you heard the click of the safety off a gun.

“Then how about money.” He demanded.

The only response he got was a low growl.

“Hey, buddy, I’m talkin’ to you.” He poked your back with the nozzle of the gun.

Slowly, you stood up straight away from the wall.

“That’s right, bud, nice and slow. Now pass your wallet and phone over.” He ordered.

The growling intensified to a deep rumbling. Before the man could blink, you turned around grabbing his arm. He stared wide eyed at you, lungs taking in air with panicked gulps.

“Wah-wahs-?” He stuttered as your growls turned into snarls.

_|_|_|_

Growls intensified from the alleyway to snarls. Faint hyperventilation could be heard as a man cursed, panicking. Sounds of struggles could be heard followed by a gun shot. A lone shadow blanketing a now collapsed man slowly crept away unseen.

____

Beads of blue sweat built up and threatened to fall on the sides of Sans’ skull. The past twenty minutes had been a nightmare. First, he’s sitting in the lounge waiting for his brother to bring (find) his suit jacket, which took him longer than he expected. Then, while he and his brothers were having a discussion concerning soulmates, Rus is taking a shortcut into the room with some tied up kid he found in the coat closet. Next thing he knows there’s a group of humans bombarding him with condolences for an unruly guest and screams of outrage on how such a person was allowed in his home.

Sans sat in his office rubbing his temple after finally being given a short reprieve from the yammering humans downstairs as his brother took care of the crowds. He sent a text to call everyone to his office for a meeting. The possibility of postponing their plans was becoming more of a reality. He sighed as he watched recordings from the CCTVs installed in the living and dining room areas. In a mansion, with their background, security was a must. He watched the recording of your skirmish with the son of a university professor and his lackeys. It was clear you were provoked, cornered even. Sans’ sockets narrowed at the idiot grabbing you by your shirt. Stars, this was going to be a nonstop nightmare to deal with. From how he saw it, he had two choices: His family could play the victim and agree with the greedy bastards, making you into a possible felon, depending on charges pressed _OR_ he could defend you, show the CCTV footage of the idiot kid not only provoking you, but also tying up the sound tech and shoving him into a coat closet; ending with maybe a quarter or more of the top percent turning into backstabbing rogues he’d have to watch out for. The decision was tough. Permits were pending while final construction deals were being finalized. At this rate, the city’s road to change would start early in the next year. If he chose the first option, his plans would continue on smoothly without a hitch, but at the cost of losing you; his family would be lucky to get an ounce of trust by the end of this, which would lead to them kidnapping their soulmate, something he hopes will never come to fruition. But, to choose the second choice rose a new set of problems. All it would take is someone with high connections to shut everything down and getting around that involved more blood than he liked. He pinched the bridge of his nose while mulling over the conundrum.

The room’s atmosphere suddenly changed, becoming heavier with magic as it crackled lowly on the opposite side of the room. In an instant, Stretch sat on the couch by the towering bookcases.

“you look well.” he rose a brow bone, eye lights tracing over his stressed appearance.

Sans forced out a chuckle, “heh, what can i say, i’m having a _good_ time.”

Before their conversation could continue further, Black walked in with a seething look, “This Better Be Important, Marshmallow. I Cancelled A Shoot Half Way For Your Little Meeting.”

Sans sighed whilst wishing he were somewhere else.

**-|-**

Sans sat with his hands neatly folded in front of him with a strained smile. It took over ten minutes to finally get everyone together in his office. His brother was the last to arrive, moving the guests to the lounge with a small platform stage and microphone for the performers to keep them entertained for the time being.

“we have a problem” Sans began, “that _might_ lead to us detouring plans.”

“What Happened?” Black demanded, “If It’s Someone We Need Dead, We Should Be Able To Take Care Of It Without Problems.”

“it’s a bit more complicated than that.” Sans answered.

“How Complicated?” Black asked.

“WILL YOU STAY SILENT, HALFWIT?” Edge interjected.

“Shut It, Spiked Banshee. I’m Only Asking The Right Questions Since This Lazy Asshole Keeps Wasting _My_ Time.” Black retorted, pointing at Sans.

_this is the reason why having eight boss monsters in the same room wasn’t the best plan_.

Sans rested his skull against his palm as he decided to count how long it would take for them to settle down.

“THE POINT IS (Y/N)!” Edge yelled.

Black finally went silent before his sockets narrowed at Edge, “Explain, Now…”

Edge sat back in his seat with a smug grin, “My- Ugh, _Our_ Soulmate Was Pulled Into An Encounter Earlier.”

Red, who had been sitting in front of Sans’ desk with his chair wobbling on its back legs slammed the chair back into place, eye lights shrunk to mere pinpricks as he turned to look at the two.

“kitten?!” He stopped, seeing his brother’s expression darken.

“You Knew…” Edge growled.

Red cowardly sunk in his chair, beads of nervous red magic forming on his skull.

“did he at least win?” Red grumbled.

“Undoubtedly.” Edge answered, “The Fight Was Completely One-Sided.”

Was Sans hearing things or did Edge sound proud of you?

“It Was Still An Unfair Match.” Blue grumbled, “He Was Outnumbered.”

“wait, you both saw the fight?” Red asked, peering over the chair.

Red’s face instantly brightened with a wide grin before taking a shortcut beside Sans to taking over his computer and pull up the CCTV server. He fast forwarded through an hour of footage before finding what he was looking for. Sans let him be. If he had to choose between the yelling and ramblings of his family and the crowd of accusatory humans, give him a front-row seat of family-time any day.

A low whistle escaped Red’s skull, “looks like there’s more to kitten than meets the eye.”

Black was on the other side of the room in a second, pushing Red’s skull down to watch the footage over him. His expression softened to one of shock while his skull tilting to the side in mild admiration.

“Where Is He Now?” Black asked, half zoned out, watching the footage again with a violet blush darkening just below his sockets.

“He Left Shortly After.” Blue informed, “The Humans Watching Most Likely Would Not Have Allowed Him To Stay.”

“and that’s when all hell broke loose, huh?” Red surmised before taking a shortcut back into his seat, “damn.”

Hearing the whole room had finally caught up, Sans sat up attentively in his seat then shut off the screen Black was watching intently. The shorter skeleton blinked in surprise at the sudden blank screen. He looked at Sans with an expectant expression for a paragraph's worth of explanations, skull nearly full on purple at this point. Sans didn’t miss how fast his chest rose and fell. His eye lights traveled down to Black’s trousers then lidded as he stared back up with a knowing look. A violet rush of magic cloaked Black’s skull to the top of his spine as his sockets narrowed at Sans with a silent threat. Sans shrugged mercifully, and turned back to the rest of the room of skeletons while a stiff (heh) Black stood close to the side of his desk.

“the way i see it, we’ve got two choices: defend our soulmate or agree with the vultures outside.” Sans said, “this is a big decision, one that could postpone everything we’ve been working up to.”

Instinctively, he wanted more than ever to drag those boys into a deserted field and give them a _g o o d_ _t i m e_, but, logically, he knew the answer. He never was a gambling monster; sought only in making his own luck. But being up on the surface, there were more rules that bound everything. With a snap of someone’s fingers, their plans could go up in flames.

“let him crash and burn.” Stretch spoke up, “we can pick up the pieces later. i know you have a contingency plan for him, _not_ this. it’s the most logical choice.”

“I Disagree.” Papyrus spoke up with a frown.

_no… bro, not you too_.

Usually his younger brother agreed with his choices and rarely said a word against him. But now, with their soulmate's future in the balance, he’s rebelling.

“I’ve Seen How Some Of Them Act Toward Him… We Can’t Go Through With It.” His brother enforced, glaring daggers at Stretch.

Sans tried to console his brother into changing his mind, “bro-”

“I Agree With Papyrus.” Blue pitched in, “They Already Attacked Him, Imagine What They’ll Do If They See Us As The Victims. They’ll Use It As Free Reign To Destroy Him. We Can’t Do It. I Know It Will Put A Setback In Place But-”

“blue,” Stretch said over him, “there _won’t_ be a next time.”

“stars, stretch, who pissed in your honey today?” Red asked, “you’re starting to roll into our shtick.”

“i don’t trust what i haven't understood yet.” He replied truthfully, “and i don’t _understand_ our soulmate.”

“he’s upset doll face called out blue in his act.” Rus explained from his spot leaning against the bookshelf.

“Ha!” Black yelled, finally leaving behind Sans’ desk, “I Told You Only Fools Fall For That Innocent Act? Of Course, _My_, Eurgh- _Our_ Soulmate Wouldn’t Fall For Such A Stupid Trick.”

Stretch ignored Black, eyeing Rus dangerously, “he has zero lv. how can i not be cautious?”

Unmoved, Rus shrugged while the rest of the room stared at Stretch. If there was one thing all monsters, from every dimension, could agree on, it’s that checking someone was beyond rude unless they were a parent, partner, doctor, or in an encounter. If you check someone’s stats, you better have a good reason. Your lack of LV, though worrying, would have to be looked into sometime later. Sans' sockets narrowed slightly in envy. If he were to follow the rules of monster etiquette, the first time he would have a chance to have a glimpse of his soulmate’s stats would be during soul-bonding.

“Brother, You, _Checked_ The Human?” Blue asked, “Was This Before Or After We Spoke To Him.” From the analytical look Blue sent his brother, Sans could tell he already knew the answer.

Stretch just shook his head, refusing to answer. That seemed to be enough for Blue who turned away with a huff.

Black broke the heavy atmosphere before it could get worse, “I Vote We Don’t Defend.”

“WHAT?!” both Blue and Papyrus yelled.

“Do What You Want.” Black waved off, “It Won’t Matter To Me.”

Knowing Black, he’ll stretch the truth to play himself off as innocent. He wasn’t at the house during the skirmish and can therefore write himself off as someone who didn’t make the decision to use you as a scapegoat.

“It Will! How Do You Expect Him To Be Our Soulmate After We've Possibly Ruined His Life?” Blue asked.

“runt’s got a point. he's already got a lower end job. wouldn’t take much to take him one step under.” Red pointed out.

“And What Is His Occupation?” Edge asked.

Red smirked with a nonchalant shrug, “he’s a _mechanic_.”

Sans could see the drops of contemplation in Stretch’s eye lights. He was known for his mechanics in vehicles in his Underground. There wasn’t a vehicle he couldn’t take apart and put back together again. Working under his Toriel, he was always in charge of keeping the vehicles in top shape for getaways and shoot outs. Being a mechanic yourself, added to the list of things you had in common with each skeleton. The last thing Sans wanted, was to be the only one voting for your demise.

“There Has To Be Another Way Around This.” Papyrus tried to reason.

The room was silent in contemplation.

“Who Attacked Him?” Black asked.

“a son of a well-known professor that teaches at a university In brinner, whose class consists of a student who is the son of the state governor.” Sans informed, remembering the professors grinding voice yelling that tidbit like it was some kind of medal.

“well,” Red breathed, “keep the little shit’s name and we’ll deal with him after all this is over.”

“Agreed.” Edge grumbled, crossing his arms in bitterness.

Black sent a look at Rus, “What else did the vermin do?”

“locked up the sound tech in a coat closet.” Rus replied, “it’s on the security footage.”

Black smirked, “Then It’s Simple. We Use Blackmail.”

“you can’t be serious.” Red drawled, “no one’s stupid enough to fall for that shit, even these dumbass humans.”

Blackmail in the Underground, with most dimensions, was seen as a sleazy way for cowards, or monsters too weak to bully for protection fees, to collect ransom money. Bottom-feeders had to choose very carefully who they pissed off with personal information. It isn’t hard to hire a hit-man for one fee rather than pay a blackmailer monthly fees to stay quiet.

“Humans Are Simple.” Black explained, “They Always Use A Strategy Involving Verbal Threats That Are Almost Never Executed. It’s Used In Business All The Time.”

“this ain’t business.” Red growled.

“Do You Have A Better Plan?” Black asked

Red sat in his seat, silent.

“Then Shut Up, Set Up The Footage, And Send In The Professor.”

____

You stumbled through the neighborhood, down a familiar block. Weakly you walked up the driveway and climbed the stairs. Your knocks barely register, turning into palms swiping at the door.

The door soon opened to a confused Gavin.

“Hey,” you began with a twitch of a smile, “I didn’t… This is the only place I could go and…”

Gavin stopped in his reply immediately at the sight of blood coating your dress shirt. He quickly pulled you inside, slamming the door shut while attending to you.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around you, uncaring to the blood and now tears soaking his shirt.

“…I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... You guys have NO idea how many times I rewrote Papyrus and Blue's POVs. It was a nightmare at first. I just didn't have it in me to make them jerks. I'm sorry I'm weak, but I can't taint the Cinnamon Bun and Creampuff.  
But I _can_ make them bad-asses though. Silver-lining, anyone?  
I'll be honest, this was going to be MUCH longer, but I took out the extra details I was having a problem with. Sorry for the many POVs.  
Hope y'all enjoyed the small book of a chap. They may just get longer. DUN, DUN, DUUUN~!  
(Edit: Oh my gosh Chrome nearly crashed pasting the chap.)  
Feel free to let me know if something doesn't make sense. 31 pages is a lot to edit and I might have missed something. Sorry it's so long, but I really want to get to the grit of this arc so we can get to the get to know phase in less than... 3 chapters (I'm hoping).  
Oooooooh, almost forgot. Brainstorm for talking about the merging of Underground is from **Saiya**. Thank You so much for the brainstorm!  
Have an awesome nice day/night/evening/morning everyone~!  
P.S. I haves a Tumblr now: [Check It Out!](https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com)


	6. What Can't Be Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needing a distraction from a hectic week, you help out at a friend on your day off, only to be called off on long forgotten business. While accepting a "house call", you make a chilling discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR OVER 200 KUDOS!!!  
Second: Oh my gosh, we have... 28 pages. Finally, something short(er).  
Sorry this is late. I've rewritten 3/4 of this chapter too many times to count and I'll be honest, this isn't my favorite chapter. ಠ_ಠ  
On the bright side, the story can continue more smoothly after this so... Yay?  
Hope you find some enjoyment reading this. Again, I not only apologize for the length but for the lower level of content.  
Have some enjoyment reading, I hope...  
(Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(H/c) - Hair color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- - Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change  
_*_*_ - Flashback  
_|_|_|_ - Third POV  
"_italicized words_" - different language spoken

Cold air blew into the apartment, alongside honks and yells, from a partially open window closest to the side of your bed. Your (F/c) curtains bellowed like ghostly whispers, flapping higher with each new gust and blaring sound. What could be seen as noise pollution was an everyday occurrence in this part of the city. You buried yourself further under your comforter, drowning out everything as white noise; your mind finally starting to calm down from the events of the past week.

After Gavin removed a bullet from your mid torso, you stayed the night to recuperate. Against his wishes to stay the week, you chose to go home and arrive at work a few hours later. The week, from there on, was mentally hectic for you. Tin hadn’t heard anything from his sources for gossip about a crashed party at the skeletons’ mansion, leaving you to guess what hell those folks at the party had planned for you.

During your walks to work, you wondered how long it would take for people to begin staring at you from across the street and whisper like the previous time with Ms. Margaret? Stars knew it took years for that to blow over. Back then, people always looked you over like a criminal. It was only because of Gavin you lasted in this city. He continued keeping you under his wing, regardless of the lies Ms. Margaret spread. You couldn’t stand dealing with that type of attention a second time; being stared at like you were some… _thing_ and not a person.

You stayed as busy as possible, nearly working on every car that came in. Though your bullet wound appeared healed on the outside, it had yet to fully heal at the abdominis muscle. With your constant use of magic to take on almost double the drive-ins, the wound stayed as it was. You didn’t care, ignoring the pain and focusing all your worried energy on work. For a few moments, you were left with absolute peace, stopping your worried thoughts in their tracks. It didn’t, however, stop you from flinching back to reality every time the door to the reception room dinged; expecting a cop to come in and take you out in cuffs.

But history hadn’t repeated itself. You’d walk your usual route to work and no one would be the wiser of your weekend escapades; not even the clerk at the grocery store, who knew just as much from the grapevine as Tin did. You went through your week scared and high strung from a fearful madness, only to come out on top with peace and silence… well, _relative_ silence in your neighborhood.

_Why?_ Your mind begged, hoping someone, _anyone_, would answer the simple question.

Irked by the lack of answers, you finally exited your room with a blanket draped over you. Reaching the kitchen, you took out a box of Honeycomb cereal. Although you went shopping earlier this week, you only got a small number of essentials, basic college survival food: frozen dinners, milk, ramen, chips, water, and a few apples. With everything that went down this week, you didn’t feel like cooking. Hell, you didn’t feel like doing much of anything except lay around until it was time to go to work.

You poured the last of the box into the bowl and added milk. Today was your day off. Mental exhaustion took over your schedule, opting to stay home and lie away the entire day. You sat on the couch in your small living room in silence, not giving your laptop a single thought. Your hand mechanically grabbed the spoon and brought it to your lips as you looked out the windowed door to your apartment’s balcony. The sky was hazy with overcast. From the smell of the cold air blowing into your room, you could deduce rain wasn’t far off. Fall, a season meant for pure fun, was becoming a cacophony of nonstop chaos. Hopefully, by winter, everything would go back to normal, regardless of the city’s upcoming metamorphosis into a monster- friendly spot.

A welcomed sound chimed through your small apartment, drowning out the world for a few moments. You set down your bowl on the coffee table before standing back up and walking to your room. There, your phone lied on your nightstand with the song “Mr. Blue Sky” blasting from its speakers. The song stopped, only to start up again before you picked it up and slid the onscreen icon to answer.

“Yo.”

“(Y/N), hey. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer…” Elia called out in relief.

_Was considering it_, your thoughts answered.

Last night was the only time your muddled thoughts allowed you a full night’s sleep, giving your wound time to fully heal.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

A question she and Gavin had been asking you nonstop all week. After that night, Gavin had called Elia to discuss what happened. She was also at the party but was indisposed at the time of the skirmish; in one of the upstairs guest rooms changing into another dress for a performance. Only when she came down, did she hear the murmuring of an outcast attacking an _innocent_ high schooler. From that night on, she became one of the callers checking on you every day.

“Well,” you clicked your teeth, “I haven’t been arrested yet, so whatever level of good that entails.”

“That’s… great.” She strained to answer.

A moment of awkward silence travelled between the lines.

“Anything else?” you finally asked.

You could practically hear her comb back her hair with a sigh.

“Yes,” she finally answered, “I… need another favor.”

You leaned against your bedroom wall closest to the window as you remained silent. She immediately took your lack of answer as a chance to explain herself.

“Remember the college student I hired this past summer? Well, he cancelled on work for the third time in a row to study for midterms. To make matters worse, Jyri won’t be in until three, and I am going to be swamped with walk-ins today.” The stress patterns in her voice were very apparent; she was nearing her wits end.

Elia ran a vet clinic downtown where most bustling businesses in the city resided. This made her clinic most ideal with easy access alongside fair prices. People of any economic decent with pets quickly became a customer. Until recently, she only had four workers under her, with two leaving to cities further out. Only a part time student and her brother-in-law, Jyri, remained. And, from what you could discern, their schedules were too crazy to coincide on busy days like this when vaccinations and pet grooming were at a discounted price.

In need of a distraction from the past week you answered with a simple, “…okay.”

There was silence on the other end before a small, “…what?” barely reached your ears.

“It’s my day off and I’m in need of a distraction.” If you were being honest, her call gave you some relief and an excuse to leave your apartment. Stars knew your brain wouldn’t allow you to leave without a reason today. Besides, being around more animals than humans was just what you needed today. You just… wanted a break from the drama for a few moments. And what better way to achieve that than with slobbered kisses and purring nuzzles?

A laugh of disbelief blurted through the speakers before she thanked you and asked if you could come in immediately. You complied, leaning away from your phone as a victorious scream blared from her end before she hung up.

This wasn’t an odd occurrence. Helping out a few of your friends at their businesses to fill a shift was something you’d do on occasion, if you had the time. And who wouldn’t complain about your help, it was free labor you were giving out.

It seems you still held a few habits from temping that you couldn’t quite shake off even with a decade of working a steady job. The option of mixing up works to something different every few months still felt enticing to say the least. Through decades temping you had formed quite a repertoire of skillsets; from nursing to hard construction. Sometimes you wondered what your life would have been like if you had moved on like you did with previous cities. Would you have been happy or too cautious to trust anyone?

You quickly showered and got ready, slipping on a green t-shirt with the words: **Highly Mathletic** with **2 x 2 = <*]]]< **below it. Tugging on a pair of brown jeans and black converse, you began to leave only to stop mid-stride at the sight of your… open front door.

You looked around the apartment as the hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention while you sniffed the air. Amongst the usual scents, a recent citrus smell overpowered them. Someone had definitely entered your home. You quietly closed the front door and entered the living room. The scent almost made your head dizzy, muddling the questions as to why someone would think to rob your apartment of all places. Usually your location made your belongings unwanted. A small step and tap on your shoulder were enough to throw your instincts into action. You grabbed onto the intruder to flip them over and pounce on top of them. You narrowed your now glowing (E./c) eyes as you lowered yourself to the hooded individual, only to stop halfway through your voiced threat at the familiar face staring back at you.

Your head tilted as your pulled back in confusion, “Arny?”

The hooded male pulled back his hood more to reveal grayed-green eyes staring back at you in shocked fear.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, eyes dimming to their normal state.

“H-hey, (Y/N).” he nearly squeaked, “Your door was open so I, uhm…”

Your eyes narrowed at him, “My door was locked.”

“Well, you weren’t answering, so…” He tried again.

“I was taking a _shower_.” You rebutted.

He sighed in defeat at that. Surprisingly, this wasn’t the first time he broke into your apartment. Arny, short for Arnold, was a _contractor_ for “mixed work”. Whenever he seemed to get himself in hot water, he ran to your place to hide out. You couldn’t always complain about him bringing you into his messes, you owed him more favors than you could count; from renewed I.D.s to professionally forged birth certificates. This resulted in a constant acceptant compliance toward him crashing on your couch for a few days before leaving like the wind. Even with that baggage, he was still a respectable man, not mooching off your hospitality. By the time he’d leave your apartment, the place would be cleaner than before he arrived.

Arny cleared his throat.

“So…” you began with a wide smile, “how’ve you been?”

“Could be better.” He squirmed, “I’d be willing to tell you more if you get off of me. You’re much heavier than the last time we met.”

You scoffed in offense. It’s been two years since he last stayed over. Since then you’d gained a tiny bit of muscle mass. You admit you weren’t ripped or anything, just moderately fit in body structure. It’s not like there was a demon level workout at a gym nearby. You lied on his chest as revenge for his blasphemous statement.

“See, I would, but I just got done stopping a brunette burglar in my home and got the most comfortable furniture out of it.” You answered with a crafty grin.

“Har-har, I get it. Sorry for breaking in. Now, _please_, get off.” He asked again.

“Hm… no.”

“(Y/N), I swear to-”

“Threats only make me realize how much I shouldn’t waste meat.” You teased.

“Get. Off.” He ordered; teeth bared.

You snicker at his red face pouting toward you and lifted yourself off him, choosing to sit by his side, “You know, for a gun man, it’s hard to understand how you have a hard time lifting a little lady like myself.”

“I ain’t no marine.” His accent held strongly to his words with his upset state, making you laugh, “And you ain’t even close to bein’ little.” He looked you over, “Besides, I only hurt those I’m hired ‘ta hurt.”

“Oh, so this was a merciful gesture?” You ruffled his hair, “New rule; if I don’t answer the door, call first or I will bite you…_hard_, understand.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grumbled.

“Good.” You got up and stretched, “So, you need a place to crash?”

You already knew the answer as you helped him to his feet.

“Yeah, I need ‘ta lay low for a li’l while…” he looked to the side sheepishly.

You gave his shoulder a comforting pat, “No need to get shy on me now. The answer’s always going to be yes, anyway.”

He gave a small nod and retrieved his duffle from outside the front door.

You pointed to the hallway cabinets, “Sheets and towels are in the same place they’ve always been.” You pointed to the small wide screen TV hooked on the wall, “Laptop’s already connected, so feel free to watch anything you want.”

He collapsed on the couch, “You have Netflix?”

His comment resulted in you ruffling those caramel waves that curled at the ends once more, “It’s the internet. Everything’s free if you know where to look.”

He sat in thought at that.

“Check the bookmarks.” You hinted.

With another small pat on his shoulder, you began to leave.

“Oh!” he stopped you, peeking over the couch, “This was at your door when I arrived.”

He pulled up a small brown bag with a coffee cup logo on it.

“You can have it. I’ve gotta run.” You said; exasperated, “I’ll tell Elia you said hi.”

“Please don’t.” he groaned, “Crazy woman would have my balls on a skewer if she knew my location.”

You smirked at that. The two were at odds for the smallest things since Elia’s anniversary party a few years ago. In addition to his many gifts in weaponized arms, Arny also had a knack for cooking and baking. Whenever he’d stop by to stay over, you’d secretly hint for him to make one of his delicious meals. Being a nice guy trying to get into Elia’s good graces after meeting, he offered to bake her a cake for the ceremony. His creation was beautiful, though traditional, pink and orange frosting decorating the white fondant with cut strawberries and mandarins between the layers. Everything went well without a hitch until it was time to set off the candles for Elia and her husband.

Arny, with his many gifts, sometimes had a hard time telling certain objects from another. You could still remember when he confused cayenned pepper for cinnamon. To this day, the sight of French toast sometimes makes you queasy. Makes sense, considering how many battlefields and gun fights he’d been in; something was bound to be dulled at some point. A black firework that could be set off by pulling a string _somehow_ got confused with a stun grenade when he was decorating the cake. The mystery as to why he had a stun grenade in the kitchen with him _to begin with_ still remained unsolved. Perhaps he was paranoid and kept something close in case of an ambush. He never voiced an explanation. Once the pin was pulled, the grenade went off, temporarily deafening and blinding everyone while covering them with the fruity guts of the cake. The disaster ended with no one going home that night and Elia hankering up a wrathful spell for Arny. You barely stopped the violence, by asking Robin to plan her a new anniversary party in a public place rather than their home (otherwise the _guests _refused to come). Since then, their relationship has been shaky; borderline peaceful.

You shook your head at the memory as Arny turned back toward the laptop, ripping open the small bag to reveal a pumpkin-spiced bagel, proving your guess of the sender’s identity. This was the fourth time you found a bag of food from your favorite places at your door and, frankly, you growing tired of Robin’s tenacity. Since you ignored her electronic messages, she tried contacting you another way, at your workplace. It was only through the mercy of Gavin, and the guys distracting her, you were able to sneak out back. But she didn’t give up, leaving a bag of food a day at your door from your favorite restaurants and cafes. You didn’t want them, _any_ of them. Instead you gifted them to passing neighbors and now Arny. You were set on paying her back, having looked up the price of every meal she bought. So far, three out of the four bags ranked up to nearly twenty dollars. You planned to drop off money at one of her gigs tonight through the bartender. A quick and painless drop off before she could notice you. Maybe then she’d get the message and finally stop.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you felt betrayed and the fact you hadn’t heard from her until three days ago didn’t help. Of course, you didn’t expect her to drop everything and come to your rescue after fighting against “High School Douche Bag: The Musical”. After all, she worked so hard in gaining attention from the guests. It was clear she had a much better chance of a shot at growth if she just let you be. You weren’t angry with her for taking a chance to try to change her life into something better; something she wanted. But at the same time, her absence of concern until she felt it was _convenient_ still hit you in the gut like a fighter jet. You understood the risks. If Ms. Margaret decided to make a move while you two were close, she’d crash and burn faster than you could. Where you had an option to leave, a life to cling back to, she did not. With that being said, you weren’t ready deal with her; having your own problems to worry about for the time being.

Saying one last good-bye to Arny, you finally left and made your way toward the bus stop. The ride was, as usual, uneventful, with loud voices talking over one another in what they surmised as a private conversation, as you made your way downtown. Another breathy sigh escaped you as you exited the bus at your chosen stop. The need for normalcy was apparent as you weaved your way through the quickening morning crowds toward the clinic a few doors down across the street, only to stop before something metallic flew past your head.

You looked down to see an old metal can rolling by your feet after landing on its side with loud finesse. Your eyes looked to the side, where the can’s short flight originated from, to see the owner of Murray’s Deli standing outside yelling in the face of another man who held up his hands in a placating manner. You weren’t fully listening to their conversation, struck dumb with shock. You knew the owner had a temper, but he never struck out against people unless it was a gang member being an idiot in his shop. His angered face then turned to your watching form a few yards away.

“And what’re you lookin’ at, huh?” he demanded.

From the stressful look on his face and the bulging vein threatening to burst at his temple, it was clear he wanted to punch something and had no qualms making you his punching bag.

“Just… looking at the cold cuts, sir.” You stammered, pointing toward the sliced meat lying next to sliced pork belly in the front window display.

“Cold cuts! Cold cuts?! Might as well call them lukewarm cuts by the end of the day…!” he continued his cursing rant as you hurried to cross the street, intent on not encouraging his wrath. You hurried through the clinic doors, releasing your held breath as the doors closed, muffling the deli owner’s yells.

“Morning, baby cakes.” Elia greeted from across the room.

You looked over to see her leaning on the counter with her head propped up on her palm as she watched you with a both tired and amused grin.

“…hey.” You answered tentatively under her gaze.

“Saw you nearly get your head bitten off by Frank.” Her grin grew into a friendly smile.

You rubbed the back of your head, looking over your shoulder toward the entrance. The man’s yells, though muffled, still reached the clinic with enough volume to understand every word.

“Yeah… What’s eating him?” you asked, making your way toward the front counter and vaulting over the bottom half of the split door toward the hall leading to the back rooms.

“Word is the insurance company screwed him over.” Elia called out while you changed into Jyri’s back up scrubs, shoving your clothes, wallet, and phone into a plastic bin they used to store personal belongings.

“Seriously?” you answered back, walking up to the front with long (F/c) scrubs rolled up at the sleeves and long pants that draped over your converse. You joined her behind the counter, choosing to watch the craziness through the window.

“Some hooligans destroyed his cooling unit on the roof.” She explained, “From what I heard, he didn’t call it in until after the storm which caused _more_ damage when water seeped through the broken unit causing a loss of power through half the deli.”

Your eyebrows lifted at that, “Wow… that’s proof for ya; karma’s a bitch.”

“Yeah. After an entire month of waiting, the insurance company finally stated their refusal to help. Something about the fine print concerning the level of property damages his building didn’t meet for full coverage.” She answered.

You let out a breathy whistle, “Forget karma, tight coats suck. He’s literally being screwed over by tiny letters on a sheet of paper.”

“Shame.” she clicked her tongue as you watched Frank stomp throughout the street yelling.

Murray’s Deli had been run by Frank’s family since the day it was opened by his great grandfather. Though the place was popular, there was no way Frank’s business could afford fixing half the building. You hoped he had some type of connections to fix the place up. It’d be a shame if one of the jewels of Dristal died out before it could regain some of its footing again. Your eyebrows furrowed at your sad thoughts before Elia sighed looking over at you.

“I know I asked this before-”

“Then why ask again?” you said over her, knowing full well where she was getting at.

“Because it’s easier to lie on the phone than in person.” Her eyes panned over your defensive stature as you crossed your arms and looked away, “Are_ you_ okay?”

You shrugged, “I’m… better than I was that night.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She said sternly.

You sent her an exasperated glance before leaning on top of your arms on the counter, “What do you want me to say, ‘I kicked nine men’s asses at a party and attacked a mugger, I feel great’?”

“Not in that exact sentence.” She mumbled.

“I nearly lost it, El.” You whispered, “I dislocated and broke that man’s arm in the alley… and I almost didn’t care. If he hadn’t shot me, I probably would have continued.” You buried your head under your arms, “Same goes for those assholes at the party. It took _everything_ drop of control I had to not to keep going.”

You expected some kind of punishing tone from her. Because of her troubled past, Elia despised supernatural beings with a passion. Whenever you did something wrong, she was always waiting to put you in your place. But instead of a harsh voice, a soft hand ran gentle circles on your back out of comfort.

“But you didn’t.” she pointed out, “You only defended yourself and no one died.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned away, slightly disturbed, “Alright, who are you and what have you done with Elia?”

She huffed out a half-laugh, “Well, I have kids now and showing optimistic criticism seems to do the trick when teaching them control. Don’t get me started on what the backyard looks like after Katrina’s tantrum.” She combed her hair back, showing the extent of her fatigue.

“No…” you said in disbelief, eyes silently questioning her.

She nodded.

“Even the petunias?”

“Extra crispy.” She answered.

“… How?”

“Well, let’s just say, shaman children tend to get upset when you tell them they have to de-summon their imaginary friend.” She explained.

“Wow.” You mouthed, “Well, I’ll add that one to the list of reasons to not have kids.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She noogied your head, “Gavin and I still have a bet goin’ based on when you’ll pop out (Y/N) Juniors.”

You scoffed at that, shoving her arm away, “Oh, yeah, who’s winning?”

“…Gavin.” She sheepishly answered.

“Ah, he knows me so well.” You looked at her with a smirk, “I am never having kids. You know why. The risks are too great.” You shrugged, “Besides, I’ve been a parent a few times already.”

Elia grinned evilly at that, “I’ll be sure to mention that to Gavin.”

“I accept ten percent for my assistance.”

“Deal.” She leaned on the counter, “_If_, I win.”

“Fair enough.” You relaxed, slumping back down on the counter, finally deciding to voice a thought that had bloomed in your mind during the past week, “Do you think… maybe everything that’s happened since the party is a sign to move on? It’s just, this never happened when I was a nomad, temping from place to place. It was simple; get in and get out before anyone noticed me. Now, I have to put stacks of lids on my instincts to seem normal and it’s killing me.”

She dropped an arm over your shoulder while leaning close to your side, “Then go back to temping. You don’t have to run away from the life you made here.” Her fingers entangled themselves in your hair as she roughed it out of shape, “At least look on the bright side, no one has come after you and you’re still in control. I highly doubt any other demon would help out at a vet clinic on their day off.” She smiled, pulling against your shirt, “Though I’d prefer you came in _without_ your chest hidden.”

_And, the moment is over_.

Your face dropped from an encouraged smile to an annoyed frown, “Wow, El. Way to ruin the moment.”

“Breasts bring in more revenue, dear.” She answered, straightening up to look out the window.

You scoffed at her words and gestured toward her, “Then by all means, button down and show off your raisins, grandma.”

In a split second, you found yourself questioning the thick line between humans and demons and noticed something important that future scholars should know; shamans were way too overpowered and complete bullshit. You were now stuck in a strong headlock. Elia’s arms held firm as you tried your best to undo her grip.

“Excuse me”, she said darkly, “last I checked, you are thirty years older than me.”

“Can’t blame a demon for being youthful.” You quipped, resulting in her arms tightening their grip.

The birds in the corner cage behind the counter chirped at the action as if they were egging on a fight. You tapped on her arm in defeat.

“I’m listening.” She hinted.

“You win.” You wheezed, “Uncle, uncle.”

“Wrong answer.”

You held in your exasperated grumbles and took a deep breath before blurting out, “You look too young and stunning for your age. The fountain of youth must run through your veins.”

She loosened her hold and let you go, “Why thank you, very much.”

_How is this woman not bipolar?! _Your mind yelled.

As if reading your thoughts, her eyes narrowed with a sinister smile, “Aw, don’t give me that look.” she opened her arms, “Want to hug it out?”

_And end up like every stuffed animal or pet you’ve had in the past? I think not._

You took a quick step away from her with a glare, making her laugh in triumph. She held her hand up, folding her fingers to look like a heart and winked at you. Luckily, her playful spat was interrupted by the sound of broken glass. The playfully-weird atmosphere was quickly forgotten as you both turned to the window to see Frank had broken a car window with his trusty bat he used to scare off rowdy customers.

“Oh… well, hello Crazy Frank.” Elia muttered.

“How long till he loses it?” you asked.

She tilted her head in calculation while her eyes watched the angered man outside, “I’d say three, maybe four, minutes.”

“Long enough to make popcorn?”

“Double butter.”

“On it.” You ran past the door to the back and headed for the break room and climbed the counter to get to the popcorn on the top shelf.

Once it was acquired, you popped it in the microwave and grabbed a few plastic bowls from a lone pantry. The popcorn had just begun to pop when you heard Elia call after you.

“Did I miss anything?” you yelled.

“Could you come to the front please?” she called out.

“Hang on, the popcorn’s still popping!”

“PLEASE, I need- I could really use your help!” she called out desperately.

You looked up confused by her tone and hurried to the front, stopping in the doorway behind the counter to see a tall and menacing Mr. Edge glowering down at Elia who currently was slightly backed into the corner with a guarded look on her face. His tall, well-dressed form had to slightly hunch over in order to prevent his cranium from hitting the ceiling. Your eyes flash back and forth between the two before mouthing the word, “oh”.

Knowing Elia’s views on the supernatural, monsters were no exception to her bias. Her face had hardened as soon as you entered the room, choosing to rush past you toward the back area. Usually Elia was very subtle when dealing with people she didn’t like; fake smiles and polite gestures that never reached her eyes. But this time, she hadn’t bothered. You watched her leave before turning back to see Mr. Edge’s menacing glare had softened to a light scowl.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized, “She can be a bit… crude.” You cleared your throat and sent him a welcoming smile, “So, Mr. Edge, what can I do ya for?”

A few expressions crossed his face akin to surprise and disappointment (?) as he lifted a bone brow at you and placed a medium sized cat carriage on the counter.

“This,” his eye lights traced over the pastel walls with paw print wallpaper lining the edges closest to the ceiling, “_Establishment_ Came Highly Recommended By Many Residents In Our Neighborhood.”

You leaned close to the carriage to see a medium, sized, black-furred Norwegian-Birman Forest Cat. Your jaw dropped at its flawless coat with accents of an earthy brown coating around its shoulders and chest to its tail like a poofy jacket. Its gray-blue eyes with thin slits watched you as it curled itself into a ball farther inside the carriage.

_Aw. This cat’s adorable!_

You paused before you could ask questions about the feline’s age; eyes flashing to Mr. Edge then back to the cat. Honestly, you expected Mr. Edge to have a Persian or American-Longhair, maybe even a quiet Russian-Black; a cat that was just as closed off as him, but _this_… seemed a bit out of character from what you surmised of him during your previous meeting; a closed-off _hissy fit_. How in the world was he able to take care of such a majestic feline as this? Though Norwegian-Birman Mixes were an independent breed, they were also very demanding cats and proficient hunters that became greatly loyal and attached to their owners with territorial tendencies. Aside from their demanding nature, the feline was an opposite toward Mr. Edge.

_Opposites attract, I guess_.

“I Forgot To Mention, Most Vets In Ebott Couldn’t Meet My Cat’s Standards.” He added.

You looked back in the carriage to see the cat’s ears had folded back with a hiss before swiping at the cage door with a high-pitched yowl, prompting you to jolt back into the bookcase of files behind you. Mr. Edge smirked at your fallen form as you rubbed the back of your head from the hard impact.

“Can’t imagine why.” You growled under your breath.

You got up, dusting yourself off. No matter. Problematic cats were always temporary when you were around.

“What’s his name?” you asked, finally composing yourself from the furry jump scare.

“_Her_ Name Is Doomfanger.” He informed.

You couldn’t stop a chortle from bursting from your lips.

_Doomfanger, really?_

How old was this skeleton? That was a name a kid would give their pet lizard. You eyed the carriage.

_Then again… the cat would be the size of a small lizard compared to his size._

You didn’t miss Mr. Edge’s harsh glare from your laughable outburst.

“Cute name.” you tried appease.

“IT’S NOT CUTE! IT’S A TERRIFYING NAME THAT BRINGS FEAR INTO THE HEARTS OF ALL ENEMIES.”

_Talk about over the top… _Your mind judged as you rubbed your ears from his heightened volume and kneeled back down to peer into the carriage, face fully at the door.

The cat sent a growling moo your way in warning. You stared back at its blue eyes with your (E/c) ones. Your eyes flashed it into slits for a moment before going back to normal. You pulled away and opened the door. The cat became quiet as you reached in, giving a small mew as you pulled her out. You gently stroked over her silky coat, quieting her short meows to a calming, motored purr. Mr. Edge’s jaw dropped at the sight. You set her down on the counter and she immediately lied on her side as you continued petting her, rubbing her chest and paws.

“She’s a cutie.” You commended, stopping your petting spree, only to have Doomfanger’s paws grab onto your arm and lower it back down to her fur as if to say she hadn’t given you permission to stop, “And spoiled too.”

You looked up at Mr. Edge who finally seemed to close his awestricken jaw with a small clack.

“So, what does this little princess need?” you asked.

His shoulders rose as he took on a more professional stance, still slightly bent over away from the ceiling, “She Is Here For Immunizations.” He passed you a manila folder with the feline’s information. You skimmed over it, seeing she was due for a few boosters. After adding its contents to a new folder with Doomfanger’s name on it, you slipped it into Elia’s filing box to have a look at later.

“Good timing.” You eyed the clock before turning back to him, “Today we have a twenty percent discount off vaccinations and grooming between nine and twelve.”

It was just a few minutes after nine. This skeleton couldn’t have more perfect timing.

His eye sockets narrowed at your information, “And what is the different between these vaccines and the originally priced ones?”

Your eyebrows rose at his question before giving Doomfanger one last pet and putting her back into her carrier.

_Has he never heard of a discount deal before_?

You went to the back and came back with two vialed vaccines. You held up one, “This is one of the boosters, regular priced.” You took out another that looked exactly the same, “And this is the discount vaccine. Can you guess what makes them different?” you leaned in to whisper, “Nothing.” You set them down on the desk below your side of the counter, “This clinic does not cheat its customers, Mr. Edge. It’s just a day the boss chose to give people some leeway when spending money on their pets.”

Mr. Edge hummed in affirmation as you called out for Elia to meet you in room three for vaccinations. Mr. Edge decided to sit on one of the benches, long legs taking up half the length of the walkway. You carried the carriage into the mentioned room and took Doomfanger back out. She gave you an annoyed meow for being taken out more than once. You placated her with a few loving pets.

“Tell Me, Human- (Y/N), What Are You Doing Here?” Edge asked.

You smirked at him, while Doomfanger nuzzled into your neck, “Can already tell this isn’t my scene, eh?”

“No, I…” He looked away with a tinge of crimson flushing his cheekbones.

Was he afraid he offended you? Mr. Edge just kept hitting you with curve balls with his out of character actions. Even his voice had gone quitter when addressing you. What was up with this skeleton today?

Your eyebrows furrowed at him with a chuckle, “Relax. I’m just here as a favor to a friend. They were short-handed so I offered to work a few hours until someone else comes in. It’s my day off, so I had some free time to spare.”

“You Came In To Work On Your Day Off?” something about that seemed to jostle him.

“Well, I didn’t have anything better to do.”

_Because… I’ve been afraid to leave my home._

Your eyes focused closely on him while your fingers entangled in Doomfanger’s fur. You looked away, internally debating with yourself whether or not to speak up. Elia was right, you shouldn’t run from your problems. Gaining your courage and petting the dark cat for assurance, you looked back at Mr. Edge who had been watching you intensely. Maybe he and his family were waiting for you to step up instead of pressing charges. You figured he was just trying to be professional in a public place by not mentioning anything.

“A-actually,” you stammered, “since no one else has entered the clinic… maybe we could discuss the cost of damages made at the party?”

The look on Mr. Edge’s skull would have been comical in any other situation. His mandible had gone slack, slightly lowered enough to see the black void that made up the inside of his mouth.

_Did I say something wrong?_

____

Edge stared at you, dumbfounded. Your eyes held pained fear toward him as if he were a low-level mobster asking for a protection fee. Hadn’t anyone told you what happened after you left? He figured the short stack’s mongrel of a brother would have at least informed you at some point since he reported back your location to them. But, no, the half wit’s brother couldn’t even do that right, shouldering it all on him. Edge sighed. Just when today seemed to get better, something always seemed to shove itself in his direction.

Though he would never say it to the half-wit’s face, his plan was a near flawless success. The professor, however, was even more of a tool than Edge could stand. It took every drop of effort to keep himself from impaling the idiot right there. The human had yelled like a child, demanding compensation for his son’s _incident_ and to have you dragged away by officers as soon as possible. Edge learned of the lowest tier of scum that night as the human male refused to take responsibility, even threatening to exterminate the monster race if he weren’t given his way. As weak as the human was, Edge wasn’t privy on accepting threats, regardless if it was a mere bluff. Only Black and Blue were able to save his pathetic life when they pointed out his position at the Brinner University that _just_ so happened to be one of the first colleges to accept monsters in Surface County.

The conniving weasels had managed to bring the already pitiful human to his knees in desperation. Humans were too easy to intimidate without weapons. All they had to do was threaten to show the footage of his son locking away the tied-up tech and attacking you _and_ the new footage of said professor threatening the monster race. The human actually groveled and begged for their silence; all to keep a petty title. For now, the Serif family had let him go with a list of conditions to follow.

Edge was still in agreement for taking care of the professor’s brat as soon as they took over the city. He’d make sure the human understood what happens when touching what doesn’t belong to him. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll even invite his soft counterpart and the halfwit to join in on the fun.

Edge crossed one leg over the other on the cursed uncomfortable chair. He couldn’t wait until this city was bulldozed and rebuilt to monsters’ tastes. All this miniature human crap was starting to become a pain in his tailbone, _literally_.

He silently seethed as he tried to find the words to explain, deciding to just wave you off. You didn’t need to know the details of your shadowed rescue; at least, not yet. It was agreed they’d tell you of their true professions and identities after you officially bonded with them. But for now, you had to stay in the dark. As much as Edge hated secrets, he understood how your knowledge of their mob background could put a damper on completing the bond. Most feared the mob, both monster and human. You’d be no different.

“That Won’t Be Necessary.” He answered, “The Problem Has Already Been Rectified.”

Your confused face was almost endearing, staring his way as if he’d grown a second skull. You repositioned Doomfanger in your hold to rest on your arm.

“…really?” you asked in a small voice.

“Did I Stutter, Human?” he asked.

You shook your head with an unsure face. Why ask such a stupid question if you heard him clearly?

You leaned on the doorway, deep in thought for a few moments before a tiny whisper whistled through your lips, “…Thank you.”

Edge leaned back in surprise at your words. The morning sun, finally breaking through some of the hazed clouds outside, shined its rays through the small double doors to the clinic, lighting up the golden pastels, reminding him of the golden hallway back at the king’s mansion in the underground.

For the first time, with you standing there with a bright face full of gratitude, he was glad he was no longer trapped under the mountain. He’d endure the confusingly soft methods of this surface if he got to see that grateful face shining toward him again. He covered his growing blush with one hand as he looked away.

You let out a happy sigh with a half laugh, “You have… no idea what kind of week of I’ve had worrying about this.” You snuggled into Doomfanger’s fur, “Everyday I was waiting for news of a warrant out for my arrest, or worse, getting sued for punching some rich kid.”

Edge was surprised by your confession. Was this a regular thing; humans locking up those who pointed out their weaknesses? At least in his Underground, everything could be solved with a simple fight. Punishing the strong for winning was cowardly, according to his King-Don’s laws. If Edge were allowed to follow those old rules, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.

“Honestly, I thought if I faced my fears and offered to pay for damages, that maybe all this would smooth over.” You shrugged with a dazed smile, “Then you tell me it doesn’t even matter. It’s too unreal.”

“(Y/N)” Edge leaned onto his knees; the action only bringing him less than a foot closer to your leaning form, “You Don’t Owe Us A Cent.” Charging someone for defending themselves, and winning no less, was the last thing on Edge’s mind. “Besides,” he leaned back on the bench with a smirk as he remembered your fight, “The Damages Were Worth Every Penny For A Small Portion Of Amusement.”

Like a harsh rainstorm, your grateful smile was quickly replaced by a frown in clear dislike toward his answer. He couldn’t understand why, it was meant to be a compliment.

“Amusement?” you repeated through your teeth, “Nine men got hurt because of me.”

Edge could practically feel your anger bathe him in waves. He countered your glare with a squinted scowl.

“And They Deserved Every Second Of It.” He answered, “Tell Me Human, Why Defend The Worthless Youths Who Threatened To String You Up In Chains?”

“You saw everything?” your eyes narrowed at him, causing him to back up slightly further into the bench, “You could’ve stopped the fight before it even began. Instead, you chose to sit back and watch like it was some show?”

Edge’s words became caught in his nonexistent throat. Is this is what humans do to those under them; string them up like puppets and force them to dance to any tune they wished. Edge’s marrow boiled at that realization. None of those guests had to fight for their wealth or the right to live. He did. He _earned_ his wealth, his status, HIS TITLE. And you had the audacity to place him in the group of cowards who used paper as a means of a weapon? He didn’t come to your aid because he wanted to give you a chance to show your worth by defending yourself, not entertain the guests like a pet chimp.

Humans were so soft when it came to violence. Just a mere tap and they run off screaming bloody murder. How annoying.

He crossed his arms and looked away, “The Problem Has Been Rectified. There Is No Need To Discuss This Further.”

Before you could answer, that rude human from earlier entered from another door to the room. Edge narrowed his sockets at her. She made it very clear on her view of monsters. Edge could respect her honesty, however that threatening look of hers could use some readjusting…

Once you finished giving his little Doomfanger her three vaccines, you gave her a few more soothing pets before placing her back inside the carriage. Edge stood as you exited the room and handed him the cat crate.

“Wait forty-eight hours and you can bring her back to get groomed. Or you can come back next week for a discounted grooming, your choice. I can promise you; your cat will be in gentle hands if you decide to do so.” You informed professionally.

Edge frowned at your professional persona. Was it really so bad he found your fight interesting? You clearly knew what you were doing, only faintly harming the idiotic males in the aftermath. Yet you still looked guilty at the mere mention of it.

“It Is All Right To Show Strength When The Moment Demands For It, H- (Y/N).”

He hoped with all his soul you understood his meaning. He refused to apologize. You were his soulmate, meant to be as strong as him. You had won the battle and his respect. Though your existence meant everything to him, he would not baby you like a porcelain doll. He’d keep you safe, risk his soul for you, but you were also a bright jewel in his sockets; one he did not have any qualms showing off. Even a jewel can withstand an abundant amount of force. He may have called you a pet, but he truly saw you as a companion. To him that was a crucial difference between him and those screaming insects that attended his family’s event.

His statement seemed to simmer down a portion of your anger, placing a small smile on your face that barely reached your eyes.

“You’re right.” You answered, “And I suggest you remember I do not exist explicitly for your entertainment, Edgy-Skel.”

A smile tugged on Edge’s mandible at the sight of the small, challenging, glimmer in your eyes, sending a wave of relief through his soul. His clawed phalanges gently took hold of your chin to lift your face up to fully look at him as a small amount of magic faintly burned at his cheekbones. Your ability to test authority would be your downfall. Restraining himself from leaning in and crushing his teeth against those teasing lips, took more effort than he thought. He couldn’t wait to train you properly.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, out of his grasp, as a male voice called you from the back about your phone constantly ringing. You called out in affirmation before turning back to Edge, but he had already straightened up, as much as the ceiling would allow, and began leaving. Not bothering to look back, he exited the short double doors outside and set for his car parked a few businesses down. He set Doomfanger’s carriage in the passenger seat of his black Bugatti convertible. After sitting in the driver’s seat, he started the car before finally pulling away from the small downtown area.

____

You stared after Edge’s leaving form. It was hard to believe that skeleton had a caring bone in his body until today. After hearing his words with a somewhat semblance of comfort, you got to see a sliver of his caring nature. For once, physical contact was gentle with the skeleton. Odd. Welcomed, but odd.

You walked through the split door back to the hall in the back and walked past the grooming department, noticing Elia blow drying a pleased German Shepherd whom was panting away. Since there were no more customers as of yet, this big guy was most likely a patient that had been kept overnight, getting pampered before his owners picked him up. You gave the window, viewing her at work, a curt slap. She jumped at the sound and turned to you with a look of surprise that quickly melted into a playful glare.

“That’s not an oversized Pomeranian!” You yelled through the window.

She looked at the dog she was working on, noting the overly fluffed state of his coat and shook her head, flipping you off, before getting back to work. You smirked at her reaction, continuing back toward the lockers to see Jyri snacking on a bowl of popcorn.

“Thief.” You teased, prompting him to smile.

“Isn’t stealing if you bought the popcorn, baby.” He rebutted.

“When did you get in?”

“Oh, about a few minutes before you started getting _busy_ with that skeleton.”

“What?” You watched him, confused with furrowed brows, “We were having an argument.”

He hummed in disbelief, “Then sign me up to have an argument any day if it gets someone to stare at me the way that bag of bones was looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes, stopping when you heard your phone go off in your occupied clothes bin.

Jyri made a noise of exasperation, “That’s the fifth time it’s gone off. That song’s going to be stuck in my head for weeks. Did you piss someone off?” he smirked, “Or lead a few bachelors on?”

“No one can sleep with five guys at once like you, Jyri.”

“How would you know if you haven’t tried?” he teased, leaving the room with a flaunting sway.

You shook your head at his confident strut and opened the bin. You phone had temporarily ceased ringing. The screen read out over fifteen missed calls from an unknown contact. You read out the number, noting the area code was from the southeast side of the city. Your eyes narrowed at the screen. Before your thoughts could even come up with a reasoning behind the calls, your phone rang.

You answered it after the second ring, “Hello.”

“_Ms. (Y/N)_?” a woman’s voice answered in a demonic tongue.

You straightened up at her frightened tone.

“_Yes_?” You answered, lowly.

“_My name is Idra. I live in the Willow apartments off of Kenstler_.” You could hear a crash on her end, “_We are… in dire need of your assistance_.”

“_What seems to be the problem_?” you asked, ears trying to pinpoint the sounds in the background.

“_A human tenant moved in a month ago and_-” another crash could be heard, “_r-recently screams could be heard coming from the apartment_.”

“_What’s the apartment number_?” you asked.

You wondered if you should ask Gavin to accompany you. If it was another mystic, you might need help talking them down.

“_Twenty-six D. Please hurry_.” She hung up.

After Gavin talked you into dropping your nomadic lifestyle and staying in Dristal working at his businesses, he took you to the mystic and demonic societies habiting the city. Even with your one-eighth humanity, you were still considered a high-tier demon; one that out ranked most demonic habitants in the area. Personally, you wanted nothing to do with demons. You tended to stay out of their politics, regardless of your blood status. But Gavin got the crazy idea of using your high status to quell the masses and keep Dristal neutral among its inhabitants. You already had a resume from fighting in both demonic and human wars ass proof toward your strength. Those who didn’t live under a rock knew of your previous aliases, choosing to steer clear once word spread of the city being under your _protection. _

The few mystics living in the area agreed to the terms of neutrality, thus making you an unwilling sheriff without much say. No good came with demons flocking together in one place, until you helped make Dristal officially neutral. The city remained peaceful without need of your help, until monsters emerged from Mount Ebott. Something about their emergence caused demons to run amuck as if they were just given a golden right to do so. It took over three months of hunting down and expelling demons back to their respective domains, to put a stop to it their short tyranny. For the next four years, a small population of low-tier demons kept to themselves, choosing a middle-class neighborhood of apartments off Kenstler to live peacefully. Since then, you were allowed to live your life how you wanted, away from demon kind, without many problems. Until today.

You changed out of Jyri’s scrubs and made your way toward the front of the clinic. A few pet owners had finally started coming in for vaccinations. Jyri was quick to help them and have them out in minutes.

You noticed he left his bowl of popcorn on one of the filing cabinets. With a smirk, you decided to take a handful. It was the fruit of _your_ labor, after all. Just before you could pop one in your mouth, the parrotlet and cockatiel in the corner cage chirped at you. Popping the treat in your mouth, you picked up the bowl and approached the cage. The two birds were named Pensley and Chrysler. Pensley was a light blue parrotlet with gray feathers striping down the back of his head to his black tipped wings while the cockatiel was named Chrysler. Not a name you’d choose, wanting to name him Pikachu for his red cheeks among his yellow feathers, but Elia had the final say.

You held up a finger gun while making a sound effect cocking it.

“Alright, wings where I can see ‘em.” You ordered in an accented voice.

They held up their wings as high as they could with happy chirps.

“Very good. Now… give me all your jewels!”

The two nibbled at the large beads hanging in their enclosure, wings still up. You made a firing sound effect while shaking your finger gun. Pensley lazily slacked against the side of his perch while Chrysler dropped back, talons hanging onto his perch so he was upside down. Just as you began murmuring a sad trumpet sonnet, Chrysler chirped at you in impatience.

“Alright, alright, here.” You unlatched the door and poured in a handful of popcorn into their silver cupped dishes. Chrysler jumped down with expectant eyes as you took two more popcorns from your bowl and handed it to them between your fingers like a magic trick. Chrysler bit the popcorn out from your fingers’ grasp while Pensley flapped happily and started to snack on the popcorn between your index and middle finger still held.

One of Elia’s previous workers had taught this trick to the two birds for months before they got it right. You asked him to teach you the last time you helped out at the clinic, weeks before he decided to leave. You closed the cage door and turned to see a few customers and their kids had been watching you.

“What?” you shrugged, “Popcorn’s a valuable commodity among the bird market.”

Jyri shook his head while children asked their parents if they could have birds like Pensley and Chrysler.

Elia opened the split door with a still highly fluffed German Shepherd on a thin leash. She passed him over to the small family. The kids went wild over their dandelion shepherd, snuggling into the fluffed coat. The dog was pleased with this, licking the children’s faces in happiness at seeing his family again. The family soon left after signing a few papers with their kids still begging for pet birds.

About to head back to the kennels further down the back hall, Elia stopped, noticing your changed clothes. You gave her a nervous grin when her smile fell.

“Hey.” You greeted with a false happy tone, giving her arm a fake punch.

“(Y/N)” she said in a pleading voice.

“I have to go.” You said honestly, “It’s important.”

“It’s fine, I’m here now.” Jyri interjected before Elia could complain.

You sighed, seeing she wasn’t going to let this go without a good reason, and forced her into a hug.

“I received a call from someone living off of Kenstler.” You whispered into her ear before letting go, “It sounded really important.”

She looked at you with a still-faced stare as she searched your face for something. Once she found it, she sighed in resignation.

“Keep me posted.” She finally answered with stern authority, “And be careful.”

You smiled at her before vaulting over the counter with a wave and hurrying toward the door.

“Arny says hi, by the way!” you yelled.

“Tell him his days are numbered!” she called after you.

You started to pass a woman bringing in a Boxer-Hound, but stopped, shoes squeaking against the tile, holding the door open for her as she wrestled the hyper pup.

“Bobby’s here!” you yelled, hearing Jyri cheer, making the pup even more erratic.

You let the door close behind you as you made your way up the street. A police car sat in front of Murray’s Deli with Frank fuming inside as a cop wrote down witness accounts. A man sat on the curb not too far away, nursing a bloodied nose, bruises, and a black eye.

_Damn, missed it_, you shook your head in disappointment, heading for the bus stop.

**-|-**

You stood on the stoop to the entrance of the Willow Apartments, the towering building stretched a few blocks.

You looked at the call panel. This _was_ a demon complex, meaning most electronics had a magic skeleton key. Your eyes glowed a faint indigo as your hand traced over the panel, finding a block symbol with two slashes through it. Your eyes returned to normal as you concentrated a bit of magic to your fingertips over the symbol, unlocking the glass door. You slipped inside, travelled up the stairs to the fourth flour, and began traversing the wide hall toward apartment twenty-six D. As you were looking at the passing apartments, ranking up to twenty so far, you noticed a tall old woman further down the hall staring at a door in worry. Once you approached, her honey-green slit eyes flashed toward you.

“_M-Ms. (Y/N)_?” she asked hesitantly.

You nodded, looking toward the door, “_Is this it_?”

“_Yes_.” She whispered, “_There has been screams and sounds of struggles all morning. Please forgive me for bugging you, I didn’t know who else to call_.”

You approached the door cautiously, choosing to first give a quaint knock. When no one answered, you concentrated your magic to send an EMP on the entire floor. Once the security cameras were off, you gestured your magic toward the apartment. With a soft click, the door became ajar. You gently push the door open all the way. Inside, closed blinds shielded the room from the sun’s noon rays, shadowing it in near darkness. You entered the apartment, walking from the entryway to the living room. Grasping onto the two strings that controlled the length of the blinds, you pulled them as far as they could go, bringing light into the once dark room. You shielded your eyes, giving them time to adjust before turning to the rest of the apartment.

Your breath was cut short when the smell of blood entered your nose. Looking down, you caught sight of the dark moist puddles covering the carpet with brownish, faded red taking up what wasn’t heavily stained. You looked up to see bone and buzz saws hanging like ornaments around the room. Whoever decorated this hell hole had terrible taste. The walls of the living room were coated in splattered blood and… claw marks? Scenarios blew through your mind, concerning what may have happened here. Was there a rogue demon running about?

_Or maybe the human living here attacked one? It would explain all the blood._

Your nose sniffed at the air to pinpoint an answer.

_That’s odd._

You sniffed the air again.

_I don’t smell any human blood._

You followed the soaked up river of smeared blood leading toward a closed door that lead to the master bedroom. As you got closer, the smell of rotting flesh quickly overpowered the smell of old blood, hitting you nose like a bat.

_What the hell happened in here?_

A cold feeling encompassed your spine, making your entire body shiver as you stood before the door. Your instincts blared red flags as the smell became unbearably stronger. From what you could sense, there were multiple presences in the room.

Hesitantly, you grabbed onto the door knob and slowly opened it. With a weak push, the door creaked open. You felt your soul freeze over at the sight that hung before you. Bodies… corpses either hanging on meat hooks or pinned to the wall with thick silver nails like game trophies. Most had a pained look etched on their face, while others were dulled and ravaged with pieces of their bodies missing.

You held you mouth and nose at the smell of the dead. Aside from the bipedal ornaments, blood and gore covered the walls. The room was the definition of madness with organs stapled to walls between _trophies_. A flat metal table sat at the center of the room surrounded by metallic instruments with bits of gore covering them. The carpet around the bloodied table had been taken up and replaced with hex circles and symbols for sealing demons coating the subfloor. You wanted to scream at the mere sight.

_These aren’t human corpses…_

The room was dead silent with only the slight creaks of swinging corpses until one fell on top of you from its thin flesh no longer able hang onto the metal hook. The shriveled body landed behind you, causing you to yelp at the impact and foul smell that came with it. You quickly shoved the body off of you, wiping the corpses bodily juices off of your hoodie and hair. A breathy groan escaped the corpse once it made contact with the bloodied carpet, body faintly twitching. Your heart began beating a thousand miles a minute as you shakily got to your feet.

Your trip in the wonderous house of horrors didn’t end there as a bloodied hand grabbed onto your shoulder. You screeched, slapping the hand away and turned to see its owner. A demon, with its eyes and tongue removed, faintly moved its body under the nails. Your mouth moved like a beached goldfish as you backed away slowly while your brain did backflips to make heads or tails of this. And then it clicked.

_These are demons drained down the last few drops of life._

From the sight of their shriveled forms, it wouldn’t be long until they died and turned to ash. You gulped as you watched the blind man mechanically feel around before moaning.

“Herrr…krg.” It’s tongue-less bare jaw tried to mouth words you couldn’t understand.

Finally sensing a new lifeform in the room, a chorus of moans soon followed after his, bringing the dead brigade to life. You backed toward the closet, only for more raisin demons to fall out with rasped groans as they struggled to crawl toward you.

_Oh, fuck no…_

Slowly backing out of the room, you quickly began making your way toward the exit. The door to the guest room collapsed open, allowing for smaller weak creatures to crawl out alongside cockroaches and other pests. You jumped over the collapsed door, sprinting the last few feet as hands desperately felt around the hallway with grizzled coughs, barely grabbing onto your ankles as they blindly search around the hallway. You whipped past a few you missed pinned at the entrance of the hall, next to a few hanging buzz-saws, and jumped out the door, tumbling to the side gasping for air. You could still hear the moans of the damned as a few tried to make their way toward the door.

You quickly scrambled as far as the wall from that cursed door, barely noticing Idra standing a few feet away with hands clasped to her mouth in shock. The door was still halfway open, showing off the horrific décor to any prying eyes. You quickly reached for the door knob and slammed the door shut, using your magic to lock it tight, then turned to her, lungs working the highest of their capabilities.

“_You need… to get everyone out of here._” You ordered, “_NOW!_”

She flinched as your hard tone made her come back to her senses. With a small nod, she turned and ran down the hall. Before your body could relax, loud weak thumps against the door could be heard. Your stomach lurched as more gore from the rotting _tenants_ bled from the doorway, pooling on the concrete floor. You’ve seen a lot in your lifetime; brutal murders, battle fields of corpses fed on by buzzards, but this takes the cake. You hadn’t seen a homemade butchery of demons like this in centuries. You shivered, trying to hold back your tears as your fist collided with the wall, taking a chunk out of the dry wall.

**-|-**

____

Sans sat at the Gladius bar with Red. Since Grillby’s was hours away, he tagged along for a stiff drink. With how much Red raved over this place, he hoped it lived up to the hype. Stars knew he needed one after the week he had.

The human bartender introduced himself as Dale Bradsell. He was no Grillby, but surprisingly had a similar creative streak. Following Red’s direction, he told _Bradsell_ the flavor he desired; ketchup. He made Sans a drink named a “_Spiced Firetruck_”; a drink made of brandy, rum, triple sec, and ketchup. It may have been three in the afternoon, but it felt like eight at night for Sans as he welcomed the strong, tangy drink. From being buried under loads of paper work for new jobs to take on the next month, Sans just wanted to lay low for a few years and sleep.

Now that he finally had a moment of peace, he wondered what you were doing right now; most likely at home without a clue how close you came to becoming a scapegoat thrown to the ravenous wolves that attended the party. At the time, that was his only option. It was either keep what they had yet to build or lose it. He vowed he’d give you anything you desired after the city was there’s. Maybe then, if you did find out about his original decision, you’d be more acceptant, seeing what you could have lost.

The only reason your world hadn’t been turned upside down was because of Black. It was surprising that something as low as blackmail would work on anyone without having to twist their arm and provide physical threats. The problem was fixed in a matter of minutes; forcing the loud-mouthed man to apologize in front of the guests for his son’s behavior. While doing so, him, Red, and Rus took his son to a separate room to… _have a little chat_. To summarize, the kid got the message to never come near you again. His brother was not happy about the ruined furniture though, scolding Sans about where and when to intimidate.

A braceleted hand landed on the bar not too far from him as a familiar voice asked the bartender for an herbal tea. His eye lights looked over to see your little bird friend; Robin, was it? She leaned against the bar before making eye contact with him and smiled in greeting, eyes looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. From what he was told by the others, your friend was a performer to many bars, including this one. Where she was, you weren’t too far to follow. Remembering this, Sans’ smile faltered, beginning to see why Edge despised her. Rus did inform you two were only friends, but Sans had yet to be convinced.

He asked her how you were doing since the party. Her response wasn’t what Sans expected. Red leaned in as Robin explained you hadn’t spoken to each other since that night. She had no idea where you were or what you were up to. Sans could see the guilt in her eyes as she stated her wishful thinking. It seems he wasn’t the only one planning on throwing you under the bus, the only difference compared to him was that she succeeded. She blinked profusely to keep unshed tears from ruining her makeup. Once her herbal tea was placed in front of her, she retreated backstage.

Sans smirked in revelation. This was a plus for his family. If you were around her less, then he, his _cousins_, and brother might have a chance to swoop in for the taking in weeks rather than the yearlong courting they all had planned.

As he asked for another drink, the door to the bar opened with you striding in. Sans’ smile widened, only to fall at your panicked state. You ran to the back bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Even after raising Frisk, Sans wasn’t fully knowledgeable on the human digestive system. He shrugged, waiting for you to come out, hopefully well. After ten minutes you finally exited with your jean hoodie tied around your waist, smelling of the cheap bathroom soap all over. Sans rose a brow bone at that. From past experience, that usually entailed blood.

You crept over to an empty table and dropped your head on top of it with a hard thunk. You sat there, motionless, with only your back rising and falling as proof you were still breathing. That seemed to finally get Red’s attention as he watched you lie over a table like a sculpture depicting despair.

Your arm rose, pointing at the table and gesturing with a finger up, drawing swirls. That prompted the bartender to grab a bottle of cucumber vodka from the shelf behind him and a small shot glass to bring to your table. You took out two tens from your pocket and smash it on the table, hand numbly sliding back down to dangle at your sides with your head still lying on the table. Once the money was taken, the bottle and glass were set down, bringing momentary life returned to your miserable form. You took the time to shakily pour a shot before downing it with grace.

By your fourth shot, Sans and Red came to sit at your table. They sat on both sides of you, legs facing away from what looked like a kid sized table in Sans’ sockets. Red leaned against the square table, watching your breathing form as if you’d break at any moment, hand at the ready should you fall out of the chair. Questions swam in Sans’ skull as he sat on your right. Who had driven you this far? Were you hurt? Had someone threatened you? He **_n e e d e d_** answers.

He gently set his drink down by yours and shrugged to Red, deciding to finally break the ice.

“hey, kid.” He greeted, “somethin’ the matter?”

It took you a second to answer, merely shaking your head.

“come on, kiddo, you can tell us.” Sans pushed.

The sooner you told them who did this to you, the sooner they could make you laugh. Your funny bone was clearly in need of extra stimulation. Sans sent you one of easy smiles, hoping to get you to open up. You were at eight shots at this point with Red growing impatient at your silence.

“look, kitten.” Sans raised a bone brow at Red’s boldness, “if someone’s threatenin’ ya, you can let us know.”

You shook your head again, “’m fine… No one threatened me…”

Sans gently placed a hand on your back and slowly rubbed small circles on it. Your breath hitched for a second, before returning to its long gusts. He became more confident in his rubs, gently grasping your side. You didn’t seem to mind, or care, as you poured another shot.

“I just… wasn’t supposed to…” you murmured.

“what?” asked Red, “you weren’t supposed to… _see_? see what?”

That brought on a reaction as your hand shook and clenched around the glass tightly, shattering it.

“I wasn’t supposed to see… I w-wasn’t… I saw…” You brought your other hand to your face with Sans stopping your bleeding one from following.

He sent Red a dark socketed look before catering to your wound.

____

Red wasn’t expecting you to be here. He set on introducing Classic to Gladius, the closest human bar they would get to Grillby’s. But when you came in, everything changed. He was looking forward to spending time with you in the bar, until he saw your decrepit state. You looked more depressed than he felt during his teen years underground.

Once he and Classic parked a seat at your side, he thought they could easily get you to talk. They were your soulmates, for crying out loud, it shouldn’t be rocket science. The only information he got was that no one threatened you. He looked you over to see no bruises or cuts. The only thing out of place was the overwhelming smell of cheap bath soap. You didn’t give any more information, remaining closed off, annoying him passed his limits. He could tell Classic was slowly getting there, smile tightening. Only when he boldly took the right to touch you did he immediately relax back to his happy go lucky state.

_lucky bastard._

Red was sure you’d run away the moment his claws touched your skin after your last encounter at the bar, which he had yet to apologize for. If he helped you in this situation, would you fully forgive him? He did his best to help you word out your problem, finally getting an unfinished sentence. As he tried to finish it for you, he got a reaction he wasn’t expecting. You crushed the shot glass in your hand. Blood and vodka dripped from your palm as you panicked about something you’d seen. He didn’t miss the dark eye sockets Classic shot him as he gently began picking the glass from your palm.

_what the hell had you seen, kitten_? His mind asked as he watched your shaking form gulp down your fear, struggling to speak.

Classic had finished getting all the glass out, mopping up the blood with a napkin and sweeping the glass to a corner of the table. Your hand was still bleeding, something you still failed to notice. At least the alcohol disinfected it. When it came to healing magic Red could only light a spark with Classic being barely better. Healing magic was rare in his Underground. The only way he’d truly be able to… heal-

Red froze at the sight of Classic jaw opening with a small click, revealing his long fangs that were sheathed under his fused mandible. A blue translucent tongue formed, teasing beyond the ridges of his teeth. He slowly leaned down, pulling your hand up part of the way, and licked at the deep cuts on your palm. After a few licks, the wounds disappeared with a blue glow. Classic winked at Red in giddy triumph while his tongue retreated back into the dark void of his skull before his mandible fused shut with a fastened click.

Red growled at that. Though he was terrible at healing magic, physical contact with the purist form of his magic would have healed you like Classic’s tongue did. He could have done something as simple of that, but figured doing it in a public place wouldn’t be allowed. All these rules the humans expect them to follow is annoying as all hell. Red grumbled, fists clenched.

_Damn you, Vanilla._

Classic’s only saving grace was you at the moment. They could settle this at home. As soon as this was over, he’d be sure to give him a **_h e l l o f a t i m e_**.

You looked at your hand then to the side toward Sans in questioning. How drunk were you to not care about what just happened? His question was answered as you reached for the bottle again.

_too drunk to have more, _his thoughts answered as he used his magic to slide the drink farther from your reach.

Your eyes flashed to him. Red felt his soul clench at your sad eyes. You looked like an abandoned puppy begging for treats. He sent you a shrug, intent on not letting you have a single drop for the rest of the day. He was privy to getting drunk himself, but you… You were drinking to forget, to numb the memories. Something he’s done too many times that ended in disaster. He hesitantly placed his hand on your head. Your hair felt just as fluffy as it looked, regardless of your hair being damp in the back. You closed your eyes, content with the action as you leaned your head into his hand.

Red was confused. It’s not that he wasn’t going to accept the willful contact, but weren’t humans less into being pet? He dropped the question, noting Classic staring at him, sockets narrowed. They weren’t tied yet on the score board, but he could see he burned the skeleton’s pride with your acceptant lean to his touch. He sent his counterpart one of his confident smiles. Red enjoyed the peace that came after. You seemed to relax, eyes closed with your head cradled between your arms as his phalanges combed through your hair, slowing to admire the feathered ends.

Until the content air was shattered by you chair being forcibly pulled back by your little bird friend. Red didn’t bother holding in his growls as your form was pulled away from him to face her. She called your name, giving your cheeks a light pat before turning to give them a scolding for allowing you to drink so much. Red’s eye lights glowed menacingly toward her in response.

Her voice finally snapped you out of your daze as your marionette persona stiffened to real movement, eyes searching until they landed on her. Your arms quickly wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, releasing a grumble that almost sounded like a growl as you nuzzled into the wine hued floral patterns on her handkerchief, knee-high dress. Red didn’t know whether to pity or be jealous your friend. Your grip around her was tight, yet your movements showed loving care.

Robin had a mix of fear and worry on her face as her eyes flashed between him and Classic before focusing back on you. She whispered comforting words, asking you what the problem was. Instead of acting closed off like before, you slowly peaked from her dress and spoke… gibberish. Red couldn’t understand nor find a viable syntax to make heads or tales of what language you were speaking, but Robin’s eyes narrowed in focused understanding as you continued at a fast pace.

“you understand what he’s sayin’?” he asked, eye lights burning into her.

“Very little.” She admitted, stopping you from continuing to ask you to slow down.

“care to enlighten us, kid?” Classic asked with a strained smile.

It was rare for his vanilla counterpart to look impatient. Red cracked a smile to see he wasn’t the only one struggling to deal with the small human.

“Sorry, it’s-” her face hardened as she listened to your words and listed off key details, “…blood… and bodies… hung up… Still… breathing.”

Red shared a concerned look with Classic. Your friend paled as she looked toward, no, passed Classic at one of the flat screen TVs hanging over the bar with a news report. Red used his magic to turn up the volume.

“…police are still unsure about the exact amount of murders that took place in the apartment. The head of police has stated they are currently looking into missing person reports, however, after the explosion minutes before, dental records might also a long shot in the search for answers…”

Footage of the police raiding a bloodied apartment full of decomposing bodies gleamed on the screen before cutting to the front side of the apartment building exploding, dousing a fifth of the place in flames. Pictures of the policemen lost during the bombed discovery appeared on the side of the screen. _Dale_ turned the volume back down and changed the channel as Red’s eye lights slowly travelled down to your shaking form.

_you were there… what in star’s name were doing there?_

Robin untangled your arms from her waist and told you to sit and wait there, asking the two if they could look after you until she got back. As if there was a need to ask… You slumped back into your chair, head leaning against his side. Red wasn’t about to let you change your mind, wrapping an arm around your waist as your head snuggled into his dress shirt. His clawed phalanges kneaded into your side, admiring how your green t-shirt, peaking through your jeaned hoodie, traced over your torso. Your skin was so soft and squishy underneath. His hand curiously played with your side, squishing like a toy made out of memory foam. Every small squeeze or push, your skin would go back in place. His eyes traced over your shirt as he had his fun, ignoring the weird look Classic was giving him.

He read the upside-down lettering stamped over your chest in yellow lettering and smirked, wondering where you kept getting those funny shirts. Stars, he wanted to put you into his lap to fully enjoy his winnings. He was officially tied up on the score boards with Ol’ Vanilla, though he’d put extra on your willingness to snuggle up to him. Even with his achievement, he couldn’t fully enjoy it, keeping his actions _outside-friendly_. He couldn’t even nuzzle your feathered hair. Red sighed, grumbles turning into slight purrs as he continued rubbing at your side, your calm heavy breathing let him know you were out cold.

“having fun?” Classic finally asked, watching your friend as she performed on stage. Red had hardly noticed the music in the background. He smirked at Classic’s white eye light watching him from the corner of his socket.

“tons. a _skele_-ton.” He purred, “he’s so soft and warm.”

He grinned at Classic’s body tensing for a split second before returning to its relaxed state as he sipped his drink.

“any idea who could’ve done it?” his counterpart finally asked, forcing his attention elsewhere.

Red wracked his memory for anything that looked remotely close to what the news report said. None of the gangs of this city worked hardcore. The worst they’d seen was a few victims with broken ribs. None showed signs of serial killing.

“not in this city.” He answered, “ebott’s out as well.”

A lunatic was able to slip into their territory and start wreaking havoc, going on a killing spree. Red could tell Classic’s thoughts went to the same dark question as his did; What if you went while the killer was there? It’s common sense he or she would kill any witnesses. The fact that they were able to kill so many without their neighbors noticing proves it. Just when his work was just simmering down to whatever assignment Classic took on for the Serifs, he gets pulled back in to do some information scouting. Having to investigate the lower parts of the town was going to be a pain. With his standing, being both a monster and rich, he doubted anyone would willingly tell him the truth. He thought it over with a groan.

_interrogation, it is._

He’ll just need to take a few people off the street and get them to talk by any means necessary. Stars, this sucked. All this for a serial killer.

_wasn’t this city supposed to be peaceful, an easy score?_

Red’s thoughts were interrupted by a woman clearing her throat. He looked to the side to see a woman no taller than you, definitely older, staring cautiously at him with her hands in her back pockets. Her demeanor toward him was resentful. Red was already past the limits of his patience. If she had something to say, she should just say it. Her eyes flashed down to you before returning back to keeping eye contact. If she had a problem, she could either speak now or walk her judgmental ass away; preferably the latter. His sockets narrowed as his arm tightened around you, causing you to stir.

_shit._

____

You woke up leaning against soft fabric while music was blared in background as you opened your eyes to look around. Neon lights blearily filled your vision. Were you drunk? You coughed at your dry throat.

_Yeah, I’m definitely drunk_.

You sat up, noticing a hard safety belt hooked around your side. You looked down to see blurry thick, white bones peaking from under red, loosely cuffed sleeves. The radius… and ulna, right? The two bones were fused to a wrist bone that was then fused together with a… palm bone? You looked at it confused. Sharp, thick phalanges twitched at your side. They weren’t long and slender like Russ’.

_Who…?_

You leaned back, looking up to meet red orbs lighting dark sockets. A shark-like smile widened at your surprised expression.

“Hey.” You rasped.

For a split second there were two Reds staring down at you. Blinking you lowered your head to look in front of you to see Sans staring at your tired face as a yawn stretched your mouth wide. You rubbed your eyes, sight clearing enough for you to notice you were in Galdius.

_What the hell happened? _Your mind slurred.

You felt immensely lightheaded. You looked to your side to see Elia with her arms crossed. You smiled meekly at her.

“Oh, hey, El.” You sloppily waved.

Her eyebrows furrowed at that, closing her eyes with a sigh. Your mind was spinning as you tried to remember what you were doing here.

_Le’s see. I went to the clinic… then I went to… an apartment…_

Your eyes closed as the memory replayed itself, mind becoming clear. You held back a wave of panic, ignoring the cold feeling of adrenaline travelling down your spine.

_All those bodies…_

You mind flashed to another memory you hoped would stay long forgotten.

**_No_**…

You tried to get up, stopping to see Red’s arm still barring your movements. You relaxed at that. After seeing you break down, the big skeleton probably that you’d do something worse to yourself. You calmly tapped on his radius while looking up at him.

“T’s’okay. I’m good now.” You mumbled with a reassuring smile.

His eye lights looked you over with a serious look. With a breathy sigh and a slow blink, he looked away, skeletal arm off your lap. You slowly got up on wobbled legs, nearly falling back onto Red. A large clawed hand grabbed into your shoulder while blue magic snaked around your waist. You looked up to see Sans’ right eye socket had gone completely black while his left eye light glowed a bright cyan with hues of yellow. You were straightened out by both skeletons and wobbled your way over to Elia where you proceeded to hug her.

You heard her sniff with a grunt in disgust, “Jeez, sugar plum, are you all right?”

“Elly, if you weren’t married, I’d kiss you.” You lied your head on her shoulder, focusing to hear her heartbeat.

“Well, that answers my question.” She said, leading you away from the table and gently pushed you off her shoulder to steady you to look at her, “What in the world happened to make you drink” she looked back at the table, “…vodka?”

You looked at her as your breathing grew a bit heavier, a sniffle finally escaping as you looked down.

“Aw, sweetie.” She hugged you.

“There were so many bodies, El. Some were children.” You sniffled, “It’s was just like back then. The blades, the bloodied table…” You pulled away, wiping your tears, “You have to tell everyone. You have to. No one can stay out late. Not with _them_ here.”

Elia looked at your seriously with a stern nod, “Okay. I’ll let Gavin know and we’ll spread the word.”

The entrance to the bar opened momentarily, filling the dimly neon-lit room with natural light. You squinted over Elia’s shoulder to see Arny had entered the building. Elia let you go, deciding to leave. As she passed by Arny she pointed two fingers at her eyes then one at him to poke him in the forehead. He ducked out of her way, turning to watch her leave.

He turned to give you a betrayed smirk, “I thought I told you not to tell her I was here.”

You shrugged, pulling him into a hug. He squeezed you back, only to stiffen.

You looked at the corner of your eye to see him looking wide-eyed toward the table of skeletons. You pulled away to give him a reassuring pat on his arm.

“Relax, they’re new here.” You looked back, “What are you doing here?”

“Saw the news while Gavin was tuning up my car. Figured you’d be at one of the bars. G’s was my first choice.” He answered over the background music.

You nodded with a half-smile, turning to look at the skeletons then back at him, “Gimme a sec and we can go home, okay?”

You turned back and approached the two skeletons.

“Heya.” You greeted shyly, “Thanks for letting me lay on ya for a bit.” You looked Red over, “Didn’t drool on you either so… that’s a plus.”

Without thinking you hugged the side of his skull.

“heh.” Red gently pushed you off, “hug me properly when you’re sober.”

You smiled brightly, “Okay!”

Red nearly fell out of his seat at your honest promise.

“Just don’t bite me, okay.” You winked and stuck your tongue out at him,

His eye lights grew to fuzzy large orbs at that with a lazy smirk, “can’t make any promises, kitten.”

You shrugged at that, “Guess we’ll have to see.” and quickly turned away to walk behind Sans and hug his head from behind.

“Actually, Sans,” you mused, “I _mustache_ you a question.”

“can you _shave_ it till you’re sober?” He asked with a wide smile.

“Nope. Got liquid courage to ask.” You said.

“you know what they say about liquor, it helps you make _pour_ decisions.”

“Sans.” You groaned, “I’m being serious.”

“hi, serious, i’m Sans.”

You screamed into his shoulder before looking to a snickering Red for help.

“Red, how do you choke a skeleton?”

Red gave you a shit eating grin, “Couldn’t tell ya. We don’t have the _guts_ for it.”

“Not you too.” You groaned.

“sorry, kitten, it’s the truth. this bag of bones rarely tells a _fibula_.”

“Alright, we’re done here.” You stomped away, smashing a twenty-dollar bill at the bar making stern eye-contact with Dale, who nodded in understanding, then walked passed the two chuckling skeletons, “I’m going home. Have fun being _bone_-ly without me.”

You leaned against Arny who looked like he had just seen a ghost.

“Come on, let’s go home.” You murmured, a non-angry blush forming on your cheeks.

“Looks like you just got punned by two _bone_ men.” Arny smirked.

“NOT YOU TOO!”

He laughed, helping you outside the bar toward his old 2003 Honda sedan. You got into the passenger seat, finally relaxing from today’s long adventure. The ride started out silent until tiny droplets coating the front window began to fall like a waterfall. You watched the dark clouds hover over the city as sounds of thunder clashed with the growing rivers, spraying under the car’s wheels.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” the car stopped at a red light as Arny turned to look at you, “Can I at least help?”

You sighed, “I don’t know if you can.”

“What did it?” he asked seriously.

“Hunters.” You finally answered, “I don’t who, specifically, but they’ve chosen Dristal as their new hunting ground.”

Arny breathed out a curse as the light turned green.

“Got a plan?”

“Just the one; hunt them down first, like last time.” You breathed, staring at the passing scenery.

“Well, I’ve got one.” He readjusted his hand on the steering wheel as he reached behind him and pulled out a brown bag, passing it to you.

You hesitantly opened it to see a hand-made bottle with beautifully painted designs. You gasped at the bottle of Clase Azul Reposado Tequila, one of your favorite drinks. You loved this because of the faint taste of cream soda it gave off. You looked at Arny in shocked disbelief.

“Here’s the plan. We drink this entire bottle, _then_ come up with a real plan.”

You scoffed at that, “Arny.” You looked at him, “I just drank half a bottle of cucumber vodka to forget seeing a butcher’s den.”

He nodded, still looking at the road.

“Did you really need to ask?”

____

Sans watched the door close after you with a strained grin. That man next to you…

“you know him?” Red asked, reading Sans’ expression like a book, “is kitten’s his boyfriend?”

Stars, he hoped not. It would make getting rid of him more difficult.

“_that_ was a mouse working under a rat paps lost track of.” He answered turning back to the table to sip his drink.

His hire took off thirty percent of their pay because one rat got away, offering the pay the remaining amount once his corpse was brought to his office. Sans breathed through his nasal cavity after placing down his empty glass. Looks like he and his brother would be doing some overtime this week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight possibility I'll be posting every other week. I've gotten busier over the past week than I expected... If I manage to post every week, that will be a plus, until then, I'll keep the every other week schedule.  
So... there it is. I just couldn't continue babying this chapter. I have'ta move on to the rest of the story. If you guys find the chap decent, great. If not, I'm so sorry.  
I struggled with giving Edge a soft moment while trying to pepper bits of what happen after the party fiasco in the POVs.  
Way too many changes... ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)  
I won't lie, I enjoyed writing a half of this chapter, especially the jokes. It's just... writing the major scene that starts tipping the dominoes over wasn't going how I planned. The story is still on the right track, but writing everything while trying not to explain every detail (trust me, you would've had 60 pages if I did) is torture.  
On the bright-side, we get to the skellies' mansion next chapter. *screams from a mountain*  
P.S. The scene with the deli (had fun writing) was brainstormed by Tea_Cup (Pumpkin Flash). Thank you so much for the brainstorm~! I had lots of fun thinking up a scene to depict the aftermath of the broken unit. ~(˘▾˘~)  
Also, for those who are planning to write any type of fic, I found a website for cute nicknames for your reader insert or any character in your story: [Right Here!](https://www.findnicknames.com/cute-nicknames-for-girls/)  
Feel free to let me know in the comments if anything doesn't make sense. With editing 28 pages, I'm sure to miss a lot of things.  
Have an awesome nice day/night/evening/morning everyone~!  
P.S. I haves a Tumblr now: [Check It Out!](https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com)


	7. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a busy day of work you accidentally stay out later than you anticipated, resulting in consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, HI, HI! Thank You So Much for the 247 Kudos and the 69 Bookmarks~!  
Quick note: I updated this chap with a new edited one. So feel free to reread. I didn't want to wait posting this this morning, so I did without fully editing it after rewriting a few parts. And I apologize wholeheartedly for it guys.  
I'm actually kind of embarrassed because of it. I mean the amount of editing I had to do took me literally four hours to fix. Half of the chap was unclear. Yeah. I am SO sorry, you guys had to read that.  
I hope you guys can enjoy this 27 paged chapter this time around.  
A bit of warning, this chapter is filled to the brim with background details concerning each skeleton's Underground.  
Hope you enjoy the chap and thank you so much for your patience and continuing to read this fic. You guys are awesome!!!  
(Y/N) - Your Name  
(F/c) - Favorite color  
(H/c) - Hair color  
(R/c) - Random color  
-|- - Time Lapse  
____ - POV Change  
_*_*_ - Flashback  
_|_|_|_ - Third POV

Rain poured in calming gallons for the fourth day in a row. Cars sloshed through the harsh river running against the driveway of the auto shop before pulling up in one of the few unoccupied spots in the lot. The shop had become busy with tire changes, brake replacements, with the occasional tune up and wind shield wiper replacement. You and the others were up to your arms in drive ins, hurrying cars off the beds to park another in its place.

Wearing a pair of safety goggles, flex grip work gloves, and a respirator mask, you worked diligently, replacing a pair of rear drum brakes on the fourth truck that came in today. Even with your attention on the work at hand, repairs were the last thing on your mind. The sooner the work day ended, the sooner you could talk with Gavin. You not only needed to discuss the problem of hunters secretly roaming the city, but you also had a favor to ask of him concerning Arny…

Looking over the 2016 Tacoma’s drums, you noted they were rusted all over. Among all the vehicle fixes, this was a crucial time to not use your strength. You tapped around the drum lightly on all sides with a hammer, stopping when the drum finally loosened to wiggle the stubborn, crusty metal off. Dust from the brake shoes coated the interior, prompting you to spray it with brake cleaner. This truck was turning more into a cleaning job than a repair one. After it dried, you took to removing the springs and brake shoes. From thereon, you made a speedy brake cylinder replacement, concluding with your gloves and the pants of your coveralls becoming a smudged mess.

While Tin took the truck out for a quick test drive, you took a break. As you sat on the bench closest to the reception room, you thought over the past three days. The mystery of how Arny disappeared didn’t make sense.

You could only remember waking up after a night of drinking a bottle of your favorite tequila together. The night before was a blur of rambling laughter. One of the plus sides of being mostly demon, hang overs were a rarity, making attending work as easy as any other day. Before leaving, you left a bottle of water and aspirin on the coffee table across from the couch where Arny slept. Once the many hours of work passed, you came home to find the sheets he used to make up his bed were strewn about the couch like he just woke up. After calling out for him and doing a thorough search of the apartment, you noted his shoes and phone were gone. Figuring he just went out on an errand, you let it go. If he had left, the living room would have been spotless. The following day, you woke to find the couch still untouched. At first, you thought nothing of it. Arny was a swell guy. It wasn’t unheard of for him to stay at a woman’s place for the night. But when the second day came without his arrival, you began to get worried. You tried contacting his phone, even going as far as to try his old pager. All calls went straight to voicemail while texts remained unanswered. So, you tried searching the apartment for clues to his whereabouts. The only thing out of place was his dark jacket left draped over the lounge chair. He rarely left it lying around, regardless if he was taking a night on the town. Although the article proved something was amiss, the apartment was clear of any signs of a struggle.

Last night, you stayed out late searching throughout the city for scents that could lead you to his whereabouts. If someone got a hold of Arny, the farthest they could have gotten would be in one of the four cities surrounding the north and south sides of Dristal. All you needed was a direction to follow and save him from whatever mess he fell into this time. Sadly, the only scents caught were days old from places he stopped at before picking you up from the bar that day. It was like he vanished from your couch without a trace.

The sound of a sedan backing onto your car bed threw you out of your worrisome thoughts. Your eyes flashed to the overhead digital clock, glaring at the two letters A and M in caps. It was five minutes after eleven. Only four hours had passed with six hours to go.

_Of all the busiest days, why is this one so slow?_ Your mind whined.

A warm hand landed on your shoulder, causing you to jump. You looked behind you to see Gavin with an endearing smile on his face.

“Just me.” He assured.

You relaxed with a forced smile while standing from the bench to continue to work. His hand stayed on your shoulder, stopping your movements.

“Everything all right?”

You knew he didn’t need to ask. He could practically read your movements like a children’s book. Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find right the words to say. You had a choice. You could either tell him your predicament or be vague.

_Vague it is_, your mind elected.

This wasn’t a time for distractions. Your problem concerning Arny could be discussed later; after the overwhelming line of cars were finally dealt with.

“Could be better.” You shrugged.

His hand gripped tighter onto your shoulder before releasing you.

“It’s my turn to trek for lunch.” He walked past you with a calm smile, “Want anything?”

You were relieved he dropped the subject; however, his authoritative eyes spoke levels that this wasn’t finished.

_Great… _

Not how you planned, but you’ll take what you can get.

“Where you headed?”

“Any place with power.” He answered, grabbing his gray raincoat off the coat hanger across from your station.

“Well, you know I have a wide preference.” You said, walking over to the driver’s side of the car to take a slip from the windshield and read through what repairs/tune ups needed to be done: **Windshield wiper replacement** **and cabin air filter replacement**.

You sighed in relief at the paper. It was an easy enough job to be considered a continuation of your break until the next car rolled in.

“How could I forget?” he leaned against the reception room window, “You practically drool over junk food.”

“And I _shamefully_ feel no shame for it.” you looked back with mirthful eyes, “Besides, I do eat healthy… _most of the time_.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” he held up his hands in a placating manner, “Excuse me, I apologize.” His grin betrayed his apology as he poked your side, “Those two double burgers last week were clearly dietary.”

“Yes, it’s a new diet called ‘not starving yourself’.” You defended, smacking his hand away, “It’s not like I eat out every day or anything. Wouldn’t be able to work if I did.” You mumbled the last sentence.

He laughed at that, dodging out of your reach while you tried to poke him back.

“Which is more than I can say for you, beaver.” You teased.

“What, this?” he patted the small chub of a belly that had begun to bulge under his shirt over the past week, “This is home cooking at its finest.”

You rolled your eyes. One of his daughters, Vanessa, was visiting with her kids during fall break. You could understand his plight; nothing’s better than having home cooked meals every day, but the fact that his eating habits could make him the next Santa Claus by December, made teasing him all the more satisfying.

“Right…” you rolled your eyes, “Just don’t forget the gym is three blocks away, gramps.”

“Could say the same for you, grams.” He drawled a retort.

“I would… if they had my bench regiment.” You stretched nonchalantly.

He nodded, “True. Three pounds _is_ below the usual rep.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” You smirked under your mask, lifting it higher above your cheeks.

“I like to think of myself as a connoisseur of hilarity.” He mimed having a monocle.

“Pft, in what decade?”

You both paused, staring at each other for a moment before erupting into a laughter. He ruffled your hair, stopping to lift it up and give an exaggerated grossed out look at the car grime caked on his hand.

“You’re two stains away from becoming a grease monkey.” He joked, grabbing a disinfectant wipe from a wall dispenser.

“Just shows I’m a hard worker.” You crossed your arms while leaning on a leg, “Which is more than I can say for my boss.”

He lifted a brow at that, “Really…?”

“Yeah.” You gave a fake sniffle while wiping a nonexistent tear from your goggles, “Long hours, repairs, that would usually take a week, done in three days…”

“Tolerant vacation days, fair hours…” he added, flicking your mask with a chuckle.

Your eyes wandered past him, noticing the impatient glares from customers sitting in the reception room. You gave a wry look that reached your eyes toward their stares before looking back to Gavin.

“Touché.” You finally retorted, “Now get out of here before you prove me right and your workers starve.”

“Yes… _Please_!” Royce yelled from his station.

“I don’t know, the storm’s pretty bad out there. Maybe I should wait a few hours.” Gavin laughed, watching waterfalls of rain drop from the roof’s edges.

A chorus of groans sounded in response, prompting a funny grin from him.

“Let this be for the record that Gavin Cadeau starves his workers.” Royce said in fake misery.

Tin covered half his face in dark grime then tied a towel covered in black smudges to a wrench and began waving it around, “Rebellion for lunch hours! They may take our hours, but they’ll never take our food!” He waved his makeshift flag like a sword as he let out a sad excuse of a battle cry akin to a dying Tarzan.

You snorted at that, eyes looking to Gavin in smug questioning.

“Alright, alright.” he relented, putting his hands up in defeat, “Put down your picket signs theater club, I’m going.”

A loud cheer overtook the sound of machinery as he began making his way to the door. You took that as a sign to get back to work, approaching your station.

“Oh, and (Y/N),” You turned around just in time to catch a box of windshield wiper replacements, eyes temporarily wide in shock before looking up toward Gavin’s happy-go-lucky smile, “we’ll talk after work.” He saluted you before exiting the shop.

You shook your head at the now closed door and went back to work with a wide smile on your face.

**-|-**

____

Sans sighed as he put away another eight bags of groceries in the kitchen. This was the third time he’d taken a shortcut home to empty his full hands. With Papyrus taking a quick trip to Ebott to assist Undyne with a turf problem, the grocery shopping was <strike>forcefully</strike> bestowed onto him. His brother had left him a four-paged, organized list to specific stores. Thank stars Papyrus wrote the addresses or else Sans would have been wandering the streets in search for… “_Albany’s Produce Market_” (?). Sans was surprised he finished most of the shopping in the past two hours instead of winging it after taking a three-hour nap. Looks like his brother was starting to make headway to his laziness. He leaned against the kitchen’s long island while using his magic to grab a bottle of ketchup from the fridge. A nap _really_ sounded good right now.

Pained hollers and screams reached his skull from the basement. Sans sighed as he casually sipped his condiment. He told Red to soundproof the lower level. What’s the point of keeping their business under wraps if the neighbors can hear screams of the damned coming from their basement? More importantly, what would happen if you were here? Sans’ eye lights extinguished at the mere thought of what would happen your fearful look from the bar were pointed toward him and his family. Seems Sans would have to pull Red aside for another chat.

_speaking of…_ Sans looked in the direction of the basement. _the mouse still hasn’t talked._

Arnold Sackett, a hired gun under their hidden rat, still wouldn’t talk after three days of _interrogation_. At first, Sans was prepared to let him go if given the information he needed. Most men under the whistleblower didn’t have a clue what was happening in the background, simply following orders. That meant nothing to Sans’ employer when he blew them away. Yet, knowing this, the mouse refused to give his employer’s whereabouts. What’s worse, he knew you. If they intended to kill a thread of the loose end, they’d have to play their cards carefully.

Originally Papyrus and Stretch were interrogating him, however, hours after Papyrus left for Ebott, Stretch was “elected” to patrol the city with his brother, leaving Red and Edge to take over. Sans almost felt sorry for Sackett being stuck in the middle of the brotherly bonding session. _Almost_. If he’d simply talked, the torture would stop right then and there. Though he never promised to set him free, he could be a merciful skeleton and throw him a bone. The human had to crack sooner or later. However, at the rate Edge and Red were going, his body would likely give out before he decided to say a word. Sans sighed in disappointment. The one ticket toward redemption to a client, clear in his grasp, only to be pulled away by a speed bump of a lackey. Seems the black mark on his reputation would remain until further notice.

The screams continued at high volumes for a good ten minutes before dying out.

_must’ve fainted again_, he mused, taking a long sip of ketchup.

Sans had to hand it to the gunman, he had to have nerves of steel to be able to last two days with Red and Edge. Usual prisoners were practically screaming for mercy by the second hour. Either the Fell brothers were losing their touch or the human had impeccable training. If circumstances were different, Sans wouldn’t have mind having the human work under him. With his code of client confidentiality, Sans wouldn’t have had to worry about him spilling his guts if he got caught.

Sans tried taking another sip of his ketchup, only to find it empty. After tossing it into a bin, a fresh one floated from the fridge and set down in his open palm. As soon as the first few monster-sized buildings were built, he was going to offer one of the Grillbys a chance to open a bar out here. Gladius was nice and all with its creative drinks, but they weren’t comprised of monster alcohol; the good stuff in Sans’ sockets. Although the human drinks had nice flavors, Sans rarely got a buzz when drinking it. Not to mention he had to take a pill to convert it into magic.

Sans hated having to take something just to eat out in this city. It was either take a pill or bring a small bottle of magic converter, a substance made of glittery particles that converted molecules within human foods into magic. Living in a city that barely had monster food available, his brother had to put converter in everything he cooked, however the technology for the substance wasn’t _solid_ science. There were times the glittered powder mix didn’t seep through the entire meal, resulting in an embarrassing mess everyone sitting at the table agreed to never mention. Sans let out a tired sigh. The city’s changes couldn’t come soon enough.

_paps will be back in a few hours_, Sans reminded himself.

He groaned at having to use his magic for petty shopping. If he had the means, he would use one those grocery apps and have a human shop for him. He wished more than ever that Alphys would hurry up making smartphones for monster use. Sure, monster flip phones had pocket dimensions to store anything a person had on them, but only monster made apps could be used. Everything humans built, technology-wise, was built with touch screens in mind. Until monster-tech evolved to the same level as human technology, he was stuck doing everything the old fashion way with walking and effort. Sans huffed as he took out the long grocery list, turning to the last page, and lifting a brow bone as he prosed the list. He only had one more stop at a department store for new appliances. Sans read the address, noting a shortcut seven blocks away. Gathering his magic, he disappeared from the kitchen, leaving his half empty bottle of ketchup on the island’s counter, and reappeared in an alleyway away from prying eyes. The air was damp from earlier drenching weather with the smell of another rainstorm on its way. He had to hurry if he didn’t want to get caught in it. Straightening his dark-blue suit jacket, he took to the streets.

Although the city was medium at best and had a long list of things yet to be desired, Sans admired the ease of travel throughout the streets. The traffic flowed easily; for vehicles and pedestrians.

Sans compared the labelled streets to New York. He could easily find his destination if he had an address. Though, compared to the “Big Apple”, Sans preferred Dristal by far. When monsters were allowed to travel beyond the county, Sans planned to take his brother to all the places they’d read from magazines salvaged from the dump when they were still baby bones; starting with New York. The place was, to say the least, not an eventful experience. Let’s just say there should be a law for monsters to stay away from major “pre-monster integration” cities.

Sans travelled down a few more streets, shuffling past human on goers, surprised at their tolerance toward his presence. Sans couldn’t count the amount of times humans shot at him and his family just for taking residence in Ebott after emerging from the mountain. Before the Don-Kings took over the city, drive-by shootings were frequent, making every monster spend the first few months on the surface watching each other’s backs. It’s amazing how far monsters have come since then.

Lost in thought, Sans barely realized the buildings had changed from modern to old and feeble. He looked to see the building with the store name he was looking for just down another street. The building looked shady as hell. Had Paps made a mistake? Sans had been to many _under-the-table_ black-market shops and none met this level of poor quality. A few humans entered and exited the building, some holding shopping bags with a cursive typeface branding its sides.

_this is the place…_ his thoughts answered in defeat as he read the name on the bag.

For once, Sans was glad he was doing the shopping in his brother’s place. Though his brother was a smart skeleton, his kind, brave soul made him rather easy to sway at times. Sans just hoped the shop wasn’t a scam. Unlike his brother, he wouldn’t let any mistakes slide. Anyone who tried to cheat him out of his money ended up with a **b a d t i m e**.

Sans stopped a few feet from the door, noticing an auto shop further down the way. His sockets narrowed down the street as his mood turned from cautiously calm to exasperate with the memory of his short experience with someone new.

_*_*_

The pouring rain finally weakened to a small drizzle as Sans made his way toward another store. His brother sure was working him to the bone (heh). He stopped at a fast food cart on the way, purchasing a few ‘dogs to snack on as a reward once all the grueling errands were done with.

After handing the cashier money, Sans couldn’t help but think of you. He did remember looking up the auto shop Red mentioned you worked at. Last he checked; the place was a few blocks down the street. It was a bit after noon. He could stop by and ask you to lunch. No harm in it. He’ll get a chance to get to know you better _and_ a break from his brother’s quest for groceries; win-win.

Sans smirked at his reasoning and began making his way down the street, barely missing an average height man, with heavy bags of fast food, from walking into him. The man’s gray hood of his raincoat covered half of his face, nearly blinding him from the people walking past. The man threw his head back, flapping the large, gray hood onto his back. The human before him looked middle age; maybe older, judging from his clothes. He blinked as he looked around before eyeing the two large bags in his grasp. A sigh of relief left his lips until he looked up, growing silent. An array of expressions morphed his face until it settled to one of remote kindness. Sans quickly changed his look of surprise to one of his famous lazy smiles and shrugged off the human’s apologies with a few water puns. The man immediately recognized his humor and asked if his name was Sans, introducing himself as G_avin_. Turns out, you had mentioned him once or twice.

Sadly, Sans’ plans to ask you to lunch were doused when the man joked of having to bring an offering of meat to “Servants of the Wheel”. The short walk seemed long as they had a quaint conversation. When they finally reached the driveway to the auto shop, Sans had grown slightly accustomed to him. That is, until the human decided to break the peaceful ice by stating the fact that he knew you were his family’s soulmate. The statement drew Sans to a hard stop, eye lights extinguished.

“You know, from what I’ve experienced, no good comes from affiliating oneself with the mob. Anyone who knows a member, sooner or later, ends up dead in a ditch somewhere.” Gavin said, “I suggest you quit your pursuit while you’re ahead, _Judge_.”

It was rare for anyone, let alone a human, to know of Sans’ identity within the mob. Sans stated plainly he didn’t take well to threats, prompting a smirk from the average height man.

“Can’t be called a threat when it’s merely stating the obvious, monster.”

Sans hated dealing with smartasses.

“But if you wish to have a more _physical_ conversation.” He turned to look at Sans over his shoulder, “By all means, enter.” He gestured within the confines of the business’ property as clear, mirror-like crystals surrounded them; each firmly combining their edges together like puzzle pieces.

Sans’ spine straightened at the sight of the human’s all yellow eyes staring his way with black veins branching down to his upper cheeks. He’d never seen a mage with eyes like that.

“That expression… Never thought I’d see the day when a skeleton stared at me like that.” He chortled, “You monsters are quite the simple-minded species; clearly lost more than gained underground.” He shook his head, “It’s truly a shame. You know so little, yet lift yourselves high in power, unbeknownst to the fact the world is much bigger than it seems on the _surface_ of things.”

Sans sockets narrowed at his statement, “What are you?”

This _thing_, couldn’t be a mage. For a moment, the sight of the human changed to the deranged smile of Chara when they took over Frisk many times Underground. Sans’ left socket immediately ignited with cyan and yellow flames. This standoff was too familiar.

The human gave a calm smile, “_Not_ a mage, that’s for sure.” He tutted at Sans’ angered and confused expression, “There is more to mystics than just mages, skeleton. For instance, I’m a warlock.” He finally answered, black veins fading away as his eyes went back to their original state.

As the human’s shoulders relaxed, the glassed mirrors pulled back to slowly fade back into oblivion. Seeing the magic dissipate, Sans’ flamed socket died down, turning white as his right reignited the same color.

“does _he_ know what you are?” Sans asked as his phalanges clenched into fists; trying his hardest to not impale the <strike>creature</strike> man before him.

“That’s an interesting question. What would it entail if he did?” Gavin asked, before turning away to depart toward the auto shop with his heavy bags, leaving Sans with more questions than he wanted.

_*_*_*_

Sans growled at the memory. He figured there would be magic users in the city. If Ebott had a dense population of them, whose to say there weren’t more on the planet? The mages in Ebott however, did not hold the experience of this so-called _warlock_. His Don-King never ordered for the purge of _mystics_, seeking to coexist by using them to his advantage, much to the chagrin of his followers. There were rare times the mages of the city rebelled, causing Sans and his family to shut it down before it could reach levels of carnage. Sans rarely started a fight, opting to only show force when necessary. As Newton’s Third Law states: For every action, there’s an equal opposite reaction. He wouldn’t start the violence, merely quell it. But after meeting that human… Sans was ready to hunt him down and invite Red and Black for a little R&R.

Sans knew how to read any expression pointed his way down to last detail. Most human magic-wielders he met over-estimated themselves, believing the power they held could snuff out any source of life that defied them. On most days, they’d realize their mistake before they could throw a spell. But that was not what Sans saw on the man’s face this time around. It wasn’t arrogance but _certainty_. That look was enough to throw Sans off before he was trapped within in that mirrored field with him. Gavin knew his capabilities and limits; able to see his victory not too far off in the distance.

He hadn’t felt this type of intimidation since he trained under Gerson and Don- Dreemurr. Both boss monsters always threw Sans for a loop. Gerson always wore a fun, confident smile while he persevered through Sans’ attacks to attack with his hammer. Asgore, on the other hand, was the only monster in his Underground, at the time, who could dodge better than him. Not once could Sans land a hit on him, constantly being flung back by Asgore’s fire magic. Training with those two was never easy, but it made him into the Judge he was today. Seeing a human with a calm aura and similar expression to two of the strongest monsters he’d grown to respect weighed on Sans’ soul. To have someone that powerful in his family’s city could be a problem. A human that could disrupt the steps needed to take this city was too risky to allow to walk freely. Not to mention, his protectiveness over you.

His so-called statements challenged the Serif family’s right to you. The fact he and his family were your soulmates earned them the right to take and, soon, claim you. _You_ were made specifically for them; nothing was going to change that; not fate and certainly not a human.

**y o u b e l o n g e d t o t h e m**.

Sans needed to take care of this as soon as possible; preferably in a way that didn’t involve _too much_ blood.

_looks like another family meeting’s in order_.

Sans grimaced at that. As much as he’d prefer his family over screaming humans, having a room of alpha males fighting over the _correct solution_ was a chore in itself. Stars, he’d need a cigarette before he’d send a text out. Having a few puffs of the ol’ magic stick was worth thirty minutes of his brother’s scolding-

He blinked, finally noticing he was inside a partially lit store. Short aisles filled the building with old-looking shelves stacked with an array of boxed products. His eye lights scanned the area, noticing the cursive typeface scribbled over the surrounding walls. Looking down, he finally noticed a human behind a small desk, trying his hardest to be professional while hunching into a half-cower. Sans ran a hand down his skull before lightening up his annoyed expression into an apologetic smile. He must have walked in while lost in thought. Hopefully this didn’t tamper with the quality of service. He quickly got down to business, asking the frightened human for the items on his brother’s list.

**-|-**

____

You smiled as you headed from the lockers toward the front office. The long haul of a work day had ended, giving you a chance to finally speak with Gavin. Elia had contacted him on progress toward a spell she was using to track down the hunters responsible for the apartment explosion. While she did used summoned hell beasts to do things her way, Gavin agreed to help you track down Arny.

There was a spell he could cast at the end of the week on the night of the full moon. You thought it was cliché until he explained he was using the moon as a spotlight to spy anything within the confines of the county; dropping your childish opinion. Admittedly, you were a bit disappointed, hoping he would be able to find Arny tonight, having brought his favorite jacket as a personal token for the spell, but you couldn’t be picky. Until the night when the spell would be casr, Arny would have to endure whatever mess he put himself in. You left his jacket with Gavin so he could start the spell and call you of his whereabouts. The sooner he found him, the sooner you could save Arny from his predicament.

Quickly checking the time on your phone, you noted it was ten minutes before six. You had an hour until curfew. In order to keep the remaining population safe, demons and mystics, within the city, agreed to a curfew after seven. You grumbled as you calculated how long it would take for you to buy groceries before getting home. So far, the numbers estimated you’d be done after eight. That was pushing it. You already had spent the previous night out late looking for Arny. Sighing in defeat, you compromised to only enter _one_ store then head home.

You stopped just past the front desk upon hearing the one of the three stooges, Tin, gossiping like a hen to Kaliel.

“Heading out?” you tensed, only to relax when you saw it was Royce.

_What’s up with everyone sneaking up on me today?_

You nodded.

He stared at you a second longer before looking back up at Tin going ballistic while Kaliel laughed, “Nice shirt.”

You were wearing the **BTW, I’M LEAVING **shirt he gifted you last month, “Thanks, it was a nice choice on your part.” You slipped on your jean hoodie, “So who’s the in the spotlight this time?” you asked, watching the two.

Royce shrugged in his fall colored jacket, “Gavin, I think.”

Your eyebrows lifted at that, “How’d that happen?” For once, you were off Tin’s radar.

“He saw Gavin talking with one of the skeleton monsters just outside of the shop.” Royce answered, “Since then, theories kept spilling out of Tin’s mouth.”

_This should be interesting._

“Like?” you asked.

“Working for the monster mob.” He answered.

You shook your head, “Seriously? That hasn’t even been proven to be true.”

“Because it hasn’t been allowed to be proven!” Tin yelled from across the room.

“Anyone tell you it’s rude to listen in on people’s conversations?” you hollered back.

“Mob culture has had a great impact on monster society. It’s based solely on a tyrannical diarchy. Why do you think normal monsters follow Boss monsters? The strong have complete authority over the weak.” he let out an exaggerated, exasperate sigh, “Come on, it makes sense. This city’s in the middle of processing the allowance of monster integration. Most monsters can’t live here yet, right? So, the mob would have to hire humans to do their dirty work for them.”

You rolled your eyes, “And how does Gavin fit into this?”

“Simple. He’s a messenger for you while you secretly deter to the monster mob.” He answered matter-of-factly.

_There it is…_

“So, tell us, assassin, what orders did your new boss send to you?” he pointed an accusing finger your way.

“To off any big mouthed theorists.” You deadpanned.

Kaliel shook his head while Royce snickered. Tin sent you a wide-eyed look with his tongue sticking out. You walked past the crazed theorist toward the door, stopping to watch litter fly by the window at high speeds. You zipped up your hoodie. Damn, you needed to find your winter coat when you got home. Your closest was, sad to say, a tomb of disorganized mess. Just leaving it open by an inch gave way to an avalanche of clothes, shoes, and any forgotten knick-knacks thrown in. Tonight, you were going spelunking for your winter-ware; no ifs, ands, or buts. Surviving the upcoming winter depended on it.

As you were about to open the door to the icy wind, Kaliel stopped you.

“I parked out back.” He informed.

“…Okay. The bus stop is down the road from here, so…”

He frowned, “Didn’t Royce tell you anything?”

Your expression changed to one of bewilderment.

“I was getting to it, until Giorgio Tsoukalos started going ape shit with his theories.” Royce answered, bopping Tin behind his head.

“We’re going to Chauvs tonight.” Kaliel explained, “You comin’ along?”

You gave him an apologetic smirk, “Not tonight, guys, I have errands to run.”

Tin booed, shaking a thumbs down in your direction.

“You sure?” Royce asked, “Tin talked Kaliel into singing ‘_Ebony and Ivory_’ with him.”

You chortled as your imagination tried to play out the scenario of them singing together.

“Tape it for me?” you asked in a tiny voice, “Pretty please?”

Tin gave you a thumbs up behind the other two, making you smile fully. As much as you wanted to have fun with those three, laughing your ass off with blood shot eardrums, your empty cabinets took higher precedence. Putting off another week of shopping wasn’t an option. You needed sustenance for the week or else your stomach would be growling like an angered bear at work. The last thing you wanted was another kind woman handing you a granola bar out of pity at work before scolding Gavin about paychecks. You and the others found it funny while Gavin took it a bit too personally and dragged you to the nearest grocery store to buy food.

You waved goodbye to the three as they left in the opposite direction, toward the back exit. Surprisingly, Gavin wasn’t there to see anyone off. From the light illuminating the hallway’s base boards, he was still in his office.

_Odd. _

You wondered why he didn’t tell you one of the skeletons came by. It’s not like you hadn’t mentioned them once or twice.

_Very odd_.

You let it go for the time being and exited the building. After the first gust of cold air hit you, your legs pushed into a sprint as you ran down the road in the direction of one of the small grocery stores peppering the city, only to stop a few blocks away, noticing a towering form walking amongst the humans hurrying along the streets.

“Sans?” he turned around hearing his name.

You waved and approached with a half-smile, still feeling awkward about how you acted at the bar. Liquid courage didn’t exist, only idiotic decision making. The power of alcohol was a curse in its liquid-self.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” you asked.

It was weird seeing a skeleton walking down the sidewalk, much less this side of town. They definitely had cars; the lot-sized driveway made that very apparent.

“forcibly shopping for a mile-long list of products.”

You snorted at his exaggeration, eyeing the large bag, “Doesn’t look so bad to me.”

Sans sent you a challenging glance as he passed you an orange piece of paper. You read out the list scribbled onto it in neat, capitalized, handwriting. Every product was crossed out on the list.

“It’s not so bad. At least you got everything on the list…”

He pinched the paper, revealing there was a second page. You turned the page to see there was much more writing on the opposite side of the first page. Every page seemed to have more listed than the previous.

“Oh.” You said repeatedly as your eyes traced over the never-ending list until your mouth simply mouthed the word.

“How many-”

“three trips.”

You whistled lowly at that, “Who wrote the list?”

“paps.” He answered plainly.

“Papyrus?” you asked.

The penmanship did remind you of him and the capitalized handwriting _did_ give off a loud and joyful vibe.

“Well, he’s very… thorough, I’ll give him that.” You murmured under your breath, “Your brother’s list is _astronomical_.”

Sans snorted at that with a tired smile, “yeah, his tastes are _out of this world_.”

_Talk about an understatement. _Your eyebrows furrowed at the list._ What the heck is Turmeric and Grains of Paradise?_

Finally, you reached the fourth page, looking to see all the products crossed out, except one; a pasta maker. Your eyes flashed from the list to the bag hanging in Sans’ hand. A smirk perked up your lips as you passed back the list.

“You went to ‘_Bengal’s Depot_’, didn’t you?”

He blinked in surprise before hesitantly nodding. You clicked your teeth, leaning on one leg while the other crossed behind, lazily lifting to tap the tip of your converse on the ground.

“I keep forgetting you guys are new here.” With all that you’ve been through together, it feels like it’s been a year since you met the skeletons, “Bengal’s is a place for- well, to put it plainly, people like me. It’s the Walmart of department stores on this side of the city.” You shrugged as his face faltered, “You won’t find an expensive pasta maker there. What you’re looking for is Belle’s Furniture.” His head barely tilted to the side in silent questioning, “It’s a sister store to Bengal’s. Once the owner made enough money, he branched out to a more expensive part of town.” You pointed behind him, “Just walk down to thirtieth, take a right on Denton and take a left at the light after Chauvs. It’s the rose-colored building across from Dick’s Sporting Goods; really hard to miss in the evening with the pastel lights covering it.”

Sans smile tightened with a sigh, memorizing your directions, expression screaming he was done for the day. You were about to tease him when your eye caught sight of the clock hanging over the flower shop’s entrance a few doors down. It was twenty minutes past six. You had to hurry.

“Actually,” you began quietly, immediately catching Sans’ attention, “I need to get going. The grocery store stops restocking produce after seven.” You excused yourself, “Good luck finishing your grocery-odyssey, Sans the Skele-man.” You began walking around him, regretting the cold air blowing your way.

“Hey,” a large hand and arm stopped you in your tracks, gently pulling you back in front of him.

You didn’t want to admit it, but his hand was warm. Awkwardness be damned, you were going to lean into the warmth until this conversation was over. Sans’ smile softened.

“about that raincheck,” he began, “i was thinking we could set up that dinner say… tomorrow.”

You froze, looking up at his eye lights as they traced over you.

_Right, that…_

Your eyes looked anywhere else but him as you mulled over your options. With Elia looking into the hunter problem and Gavin promising to locate Arny later this week, your late schedule was free. Was there really nothing else you could do? You thought over what you could do today, eyes flashing to Sans who now had a quizzical look on his face.

“Is that why you were outside the shop?” you finally asked, thankfully changing the subject.

Blue sweat beaded on the side of his skull as his smile straightened into a flat grimace.

“My coworkers saw you outside talking with my boss.” you informed, “You were quite the talk of the day.”

Sans hummed at that, straight smile becoming strained, “boss, huh.” His eye lights wandered over the passing crowds, as the blue droplets intensified.

You tilted your head at his nervousness, “What?”

He shook his head, continuing to look to the side, “when i met gavin, he was…” he trailed off.

“Weirder than you expected?” you finished with a snort as Sans’ eyes narrowed in uncertainty, “Don’t worry, you’re not the first to say that.”

“that’s one way of putting it.” He scratched his cheekbone sheepishly.

“That look…” you scrutinized him with a smirk as his small eye lights looked your way in cautious surprise, “You suffered through his humor, didn’t you? Only Gavin can create that type of reaction in people. Don’t take any of his jokes personally, he didn’t mean anything by it.”

He forced out a nervous chuckle, “heh. sure, kid, i can take a joke.”

_Doesn’t look like it. What did Gavin say to get him so worked up?_ You pondered.

Your eyes flashed back to the clock: **6:23**.

“Look, I _really_ gotta go.” you said, pulling away from his hand and jogging past him.

“what time do you get off work?”

You stopped, nearly tripping on your own two feet.

_Wow, this skeleton’s tenacious_.

You threw your hands up in exasperation then let them fall to your sides with a loud clap as you looked at him over your shoulder, “Five.”

His smile had turned into a pleased grin as he stuffed his free hand into his pocket, “great, it’s a date.”

You dismissed him, turning back to sprint for the grocery store, only to stop.

_Date? Did he just say date? You did not agree to a date._

You turned to tell him, only for the response to dry up in your throat at the lack of skeleton filling your vision. Your lungs deflated the confident air you were going to use to rant.

_Goddamn teleporters_, your mind grumbled.

You looked up at the clock. With a groan, you sped off in the direction of the closest grocery store.

____

Sans was not expecting to see you after his run in with Gavin. He was surprised when you informed him the warlock was your boss of all things. He teleported to the roof of a building overlooking the street to watch you run out of sight down the street.

Aside from everything that happened today, including now having to traverse the city to yet _another_ store for his brother, Sans couldn’t help but smile. You accepted his dinner offer. Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough. The only problem was the others. He’d have to get them out of the house for a few hours. It’ll be a pain in his coccyx to pull off, but worth it in the long run.

He teleported to the sporting good shopping center. Last time he was here, Papyrus was buying parts for an obstacle course he and Edge were building for training. His eye lights scanned the shopping center, stopping at a rose-colored building. You weren’t kidding, the place was lit like the buildings back in Snowdin. He ambled over to the automated sliding doors, exhausted from the hours of shopping. Only his bother would have the energy to shop from place to place.

Upon entering, he stopped to look around. Belle’s Furniture was like night and day compared to the other store. The store looked much newer in comparison with lounge chairs and beds lined up to look like a wall-less room while kitchen appliances stood like dominoes against each other for buyers to browse. He looked toward the lined-up aisles on the opposite side of the building. Taking an educated guess, Sans headed for the aisle filled with kitchen-ware, only to stop at its entrance with an audible groan as he facepalmed upon realization. He forgot to get your number.

_stars dammit._

**-|-**

**____**

You walked down the long streets with five heavy bags of groceries. It was after eight. You were in the store longer than you anticipated. The advice to not shop when you’re hungry was an understatement. You only went in for ten items, yet exited the store with a wallet sixty-eight dollars lighter. You glared at the bags hanging from your fingers. The cold was starting to make their weight more noticeable by the second as your fingers began to stiffen. At least you wouldn’t have to go shopping next week. You sighed as you approached the closest bus stop, only to see it empty. Being a frequent rider, you knew the signs of when a bus had already come and gone. The usual riders weren’t there. One usually forgets their cup of tea on the bench when the bus comes. From the look of the steam erupting from the Styrofoam cup on the side of the metallic seat, you just missed them.

You cursed under your breath before turning around and heading down the street. You had marked doors around the city with glyphs. Once activated by your magic, each doorway served as a portal to your apartment. You rarely used them unless it was an emergency, but with hunters on the loose, this counted as a deal breaker. You looked down the street to see Crowler Road was next. Taking a right down an alleyway, you set out for a glyphed door in back of one of the large business buildings.

The smell of rain was thick in the air. Rain was close. Luckily, you’d be home before a single drop could fall. Today was exhausting. The only thing on your mind was the list of acts needed to get to bed. As soon as you got home, you were turning the heat up high and taking a hot shower. You turned left down another alley.

Upon turning down another alley, you soon noticed the sound of following footsteps not far behind. You groaned at the coincidence. Having bystanders around when using magic would be a problem. Looks like you’ll have to take a detour back around. But as you turned down a street to make your way back around, the footsteps continued to follow. You sighed in annoyance. Dealing with muggers was the last thing on your mind.

_I’ll lose them at the court_, you planned.

You turned down a different alleyway and walked around the back of an apartment complex. The footsteps slowed as you walked past apartments with people smoking outside their balconied porch.

_Perfect._

You took a right down the next alleyway that held a homemade basketball court one of the tenants built for the kids of the complex to play in. You looked up at the rooves towering above. You could easily scale the walls and leave whoever was following you none the wiser. You eyed the bags hanging from your grasp, noting the thin handles building pressure on your fingers as they thinned like a thread. Your eyes flashed to the roof before clicking your teeth in disappointment and anger. The cheap bags wouldn’t survive the climb.

_Dammit, should’ve thought this through._

You stiffened when you heard approaching footsteps. Once they stopped, you moved your head to the side to acknowledge them.

“Can I help you?” you asked, still facing the towering walls that made up the other side of the court.

“Yeah, I think you can.” A voice rasped behind you.

You sighed at the cliched response and slowly turned toward the voice, groceries still in hand. There were four men dressed in dark clothing standing before you. You’ve seen bigger groups for a mugging but you weren’t complaining. This gave you better odds at saving your groceries.

“West,” The tallest of the group put his hand on the shoulder of the man standing closest to you, “are we really doing this? Just look at him, he’s just a kid.”

_Huh, one with a conscience._ You deduced,_ That’s new._

You took that to your advantage, slowly lowering your groceries with a worried expression.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I only have fifteen bucks in my wallet, but you’re welcome to it.” You said holding up your hands in a placating manner, while your mind decided whether or not it was worth fighting for your groceries. I was…

The man’s hand tensed around _West_’s shoulder, “West, come on. We should just let this go, okay.”

West shrugged off his hand, “The hothead ordered for this guy to be offed.” He pointed his finger close to the other’s face, “He said he was a demon and he’s _never_ lied to me. Never.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. That was… unexpected news. Not surprising, but…

_Who the hell did I piss off to have a group of hitmen hunt me down?_ You asked yourself.

No candidates came to mind. It wasn’t something planned years in advance. These guys were far too green for that.

“Have you lost it? There is no such thing as demons.” The other took a step back with the others who had the same look of disbelief upon their faces.

“They ARE real!” he yelled, “My family has been hunting them for generations. And this,” he pointed at you, “this fucking _thing_ is one of them.”

A moment of silence passed over the small group before another wearing a long-chained earring scoffed at the one called West, “Okay, you know what, this is getting a little too crazy for me. I’m out.”

The one next to him, wearing a brown beanie, nodded in agreement as they both began to leave the court. You kept your face neutral at the lucky chance. Two were definitely easier to handle.

“Okay, look-look-look.” He yelled to the other two, “I can prove it. If it doesn’t work, we can leave and tell the boss we never found him, okay?”

The two stopped, plummeting your neutral expression into a frown.

“Then prove it idiot!” the one wearing a brown beanie demanded, “N’one ain’t got time for your crazy shit.”

West smirked at them as he reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a navy-blue jewel. Your eyes slightly widened at the sight. It was no ordinary diamond. No, that was a crystallized demon soul.

“A rock?” the earring one snorted, “That’s your proof? Man-” he and beanie began to leave again.

“Trust me!” West yelled, “This jewel can point out demons just by pointing it at them. If the jewel lights up, he’s a demon, if it doesn’t, he’s human.” He pointed the jewel at the tall one. When the jewel didn’t activate, he pointed it toward himself, resulting in the same reaction. He turned to you with a hopeful glare.

Stars, you hoped the seals kept you hidden from a raw crystallized soul. You may remain hidden from the live ones, but when faced with trinkets like this, there was a fifty-fifty chance it wouldn’t work. You held your breath as the obsessed man approached with the jewel pointed toward you. The closer it got, you noticed nothing was happening. You let go of your held breath as his face melded into one of confusion. With a tinge of anger, he forced the jewel onto your chest. You watched as a spark barely ignited the jewel for a second, only to fizzle out. Your eyes widened as you looked back up to see West’s eyes staring back in triumph.

_Where’s Lady Luck when you need her_? Your thoughts complained.

The tall one stood next to him in disbelief as he took the jewel from Wests hands. After the jewel passed his scrutiny, he lowered the jewel back to your chest. A dim illumination overtook the jewel before dying out.

“Holy shit.” The tall one cursed, “It’s fuckin’ real?”

“What?” the other two started to approach.

“Grab him.” West ordered.

You sighed as the tall one grabbed your arm.

_Guess it’s time for Plan B_, you surmised.

You pulled him close, grabbed the jewel, and punched him hard in the gut. It was always so satisfying how they slowly toppled down from the pain. The other two hurried over as West tried to take you down with a punch to the jaw. You kneeled from the impact, only to kick his feet from under him. The air was knocked out of lungs as his back hit the pavement. Not wasting any time, you grabbed his forearm and broke it. A pained scream bellowed from his mouth as soon as the swift crack sounded.

The two cursed as you stood up, pocketing the jewel. They charged at you, throwing punches this way and that. You dodged their attacks easily until one got the smart idea to trap you in in a headlock while the other kneed you in the gut and punched you incessantly in the ribs. You kicked him away while pushing the other into a wall, unknowing to the recovered tall one who punched you back in the gut. You slumped out of the other’s headlock as you slowly fell to your knees.

_Okay, it’s not as satisfying when it happens to me._

You caught a foot before it could collide with your rib, pushing it back a few feet, taking the beanie man with it. Just as you got up, the taller one swung a hard fist your way. You quickly grabbed onto his fist before it could collide with your temple, squeezing it effortlessly. The knuckles cracked as they were slowly smashed under your grip, causing the tall one to kneel down with a pained grunt. Beanie then shot a punch to your jaw, knocking you back down to the ground. You slowly lifted yourself on your arms and knees.

_Okay, this could’ve gone better_.

A boot suddenly came into view, heading right for your skull. You squinted your eyes shut, unable to move from the upcoming pain. The impact was brief, breaking your nose, forcing your body to collapse back onto the pavement, body going limp.

_Definitely could have gone better._

“So, that was a demon?” one asked in smug disbelief, “Didn’t seem so tough.”

You were expecting a fight, just not a well-balanced one. Although their moves were sloppy, they had great synergy between them. When one falls, two come to their aid. You underestimated their prowess. A mistake you wouldn’t make again.

Playtime was over.

Your eyes opened, revealing glowing (E/c), slit eyes as your nose straightened itself and automatically healed. Your arms quickly found feeling in themselves once again as you slowly lifted yourself up. A boot pushed you back down.

“Well, now. Where do you think you’re goin’?”

You usually went easy on noob hunters, but these guys were really starting to become a pain in your back. Your ribs cracked back into place as you lifted yourself up once more, regardless of the man pushing his weight on top of you. A tense grunt sounded from above as you stood to your knees with a low, graveled growl rumbling in your chest. Your tail formed through misty smoke, darkening into its narrowed form with a bladed tip. Before he could yell for help, your tail wrapped around the boot still pushing down on you and threw him across the alley toward the wall above the dumpster. His body dropped onto the dumpster lid, tumbling off to hit the ground flat on his face and stomach.

Beanie cursed as you approached with a dark look. He took out a pocket knife, swiping it at the ready to slash you at arm’s reach. You ducked out of the way of his latest swipe, biting his wrist. Your canines began ripping through muscles and veins as blood filled your mouth. You grabbed onto his other hand that tried to punch your teeth’s grip on his wrist, twisting it. His now limp wrist finally dropped the small knife, resulting in your mouth opening to let go of the dead appendage. You then grabbed onto the same arm and dislocated it, ending with you pulling him closer by said arm to lightly hit him on the side of his neck, silencing his pained whimper by knocking him out. These men were a pain to deal with, but you weren’t going to take the easy road by taking their lives. You wiped the blood off your lips with your hoodie’s sleeve.

An angered yell blared behind you. Before you could react, you were grabbed from behind by the tall one and stabbed in the chest. You wheezed in shock at the action.

“Just die and we can go.” He grunted as he pushed the blade further into your rib cage.

Blood pooled in your mouth as you gasped for air. Your hand shakily grabbed his grip on the blade and slowly lifted it from your chest.

“If only… it was that easy.” You wheezed.

His other hand tried to pull his hand and yours back down, but his strength was no match for yours. You lifted his arm all the way before flipping him over your shoulder onto his back. The blade clamored the ground as he scrambled to his feet, freezing at the sight of your chest wound mending before healing completely without any trace of the injury’s existence. You huffed, lightly tugging at your damaged shirt. The letters T and W were partially destroyed by the knife sized hole.

“Seriously?” you complained, “This was a gift.”

You lunged at him, hitting his torso with an array of hits and shoved a palm upward toward his nose, smashing it in. Cartilage and blood oozed from the smushed nostrils. You may have abstained from taking life, but that didn’t mean you’d play nice. You wouldn’t kill, but you had no qualms about maiming. You kicked your leg into the man’s jaw. In slow motion, his jaw titled to the side as he toppled over with dazed eyes, arms sliding down the pavement as they slowed his decent.

You relaxed, eyes dimming to their original state while your tail dissipated into smoke. All was quiet until you heard a groan coming from the dumpster across from you. Your plan was to knock them all out, call the police, then head home through one of your glyphed doors before your food spoiled. You cracked your knuckles as you approached the slowly waking man. Just a quick tap on the side of the neck and he’ll be out cold for an hour.

A gunshot disrupted the quieting sounds within the court. You were mere feet from the stirring man and dropped to one knee. Confused, you tried to get up again, only to fall back down. You looked down, finally noticing the bullet hole in your lower thigh. Your bewildered expression hardened as you watched it stay the same.

_Why isn’t it healing?_

Your fingers grazed the sides of the wound, resulting in a pained hiss. You lifted your fingertips to see they were covered in black blood instead of the usual red. Your head slowly looked over your shoulder at West who had a snub-nosed gun pointed toward you.

_He’s more experienced than I thought_, you evaluated.

You slowly got up, ignoring the pain that grew to unbearable levels as you put weight on tour leg. The bullet was still inside. Damn, this could be a problem. It’s not like you could go to Gavin’s after this; not with his family over. You shook your head.

_Later. I need to knock this guy out and get out of here as soon as possible._

Two men were out cold while the others were composed of West slowly getting up while swallowing down his wails of pain and Beanie slowly waking up with weak arms barely holding him up. You just might be able to pull this off.

West panicked at your standing form, firing another shot your way. You barely stepped out of the way to see an eggplant colored bullet covered in thin, curled barbs fly into the metallic side of the dumpster. Your eyes narrowed at the offending object.

_Well, that explains why I’m not healing_, you hypothesized, _Goddamn demon bullets_.

You eyed his gun, noting it was a five-gauged pistol.

_Two shots; three more to go._

Perhaps you could talk this out. If he shot at you, the odds of him missing were high due to his injury. Before you could inquire a truce, marching footsteps approached from the side alleyway. Five more men ran onto the court, guns in hand. You shakily turned to meet them, hands in the air as they aimed their pistols at you.

_How did they_-

You turned to see Beanie had collapsed back onto the pavement with a cellphone in hand. Three men surrounded you while one went to help West up and the other draped Beanie over his shoulder to carry off, ignoring two unconscious men strewn over the court. West protested with complaints toward the man helping him. His words fell on deaf ears as the man began leading him out of the alleyway. Protests soon turned into pained yells as he punched the man and aimed his pistol your way, prompting the armed men to duck at of the way as he fired your way. Your body froze at the impact of the last three bullets from his gun were empty into your body. It took your brain a whole minute to process what just happened as black blood poured from your mouth before your legs finally gave out.

____

Sans sat under the outside patio of a fast food joint. He was forced to buy two new ‘dogs thanks to Red. Upon returning to the mansion, Sans was shocked to find his food missing from the fridge. After a swift look over every shelf, he entered the TV lounge to find Red licking the mustard from his clawed phalanges in satisfaction with the hot-dogs’ wrappers strewn in front of him.

After nearly destroying the lounge with a quick bone fight that ended with Red being pinned to the wall, Sans left to buy two more, preferring to this time eat them while he was out in case swine-skeletons chose to steal his meal once again. On the bright side, Papyrus still hadn’t returned from Ebott, giving him time to shower off the smell of Golden-Flower cigs. He leaned back on the bench-like chairs, content with the calm city life in the background. Compared to Ebott, he preferred the silent. Ebott rarely slept with parties and clubs blaring half the city with over the top music from different versions of Mettaton and Napstaton. His eye lights looked up at the sky, noticing he could see some of the stars in this city. Ebott was just a bright during the night hours as it was during the day. Sans sighed. He had to take his brother, and maybe the others, out stargazing in these parts-

Like lightning, Sans’ soul was shot with a wounded surge from your soul. His spine straightened as he sat up from his lying position. Another distress signal battered his soul as yours screamed out in desperation. Sans took a shortcut to higher ground, walking around the rooves for his soul to point him in the right direction. His soul hammered in his chest toward older buildings down a couple of blocks. After taking a shortcut atop one of the buildings, he noticed people fleeing from an apartment complex.

Taking a shortcut to the ground, Sans walked the opposing way through the panicked crowds, making his way to a back alley with a basketball court. Instead of seeing kids playing he saw five humans surrounding a dumpster on the opposite side. From seeing red smeared on the pavement toward the small crowd, Sans deduced someone had been recently dragged. His eye lights extinguished when the small crowds slightly parted to reveal your unconscious form. There you were; bloodied to a pulp and pinned by two men to a dumpster. The two parted as one man loaded a small pistol with dark-violet bullets and aimed it at… y o u.

All logic flew out the window as Sans’ left socket ignited with cyan and marigold flames. Before the human could pull the trigger, he and the rest of the scum were thrown toward the wall opposite of you. He used a shortcut to appear next to you, catching your limp form before it had a chance to fall.

Bones sprouted from the ground like thistles, impaling one of the men while others were able to barely get out of the way with minimal injuries. Their bodies suddenly became weightless as sharp, blue bones formed and floated beside them, shooting their way. Two froze in shock while others squirmed to be put down. Two more were impaled in zero gravity.

The last two left alive were plopped down like a sack of potatoes closest to Sans. His instincts barely registered the two lifeforms lying before him as he took hesitant steps with you in his arms, unmindful of the leg from one of the deceased being crushed under his weight. He lifted a hand to gently comb your caked hair out of your face as your eyes remained closed.

“starlight?” he called out with a soft smile, only for it to falter seeing you weren’t responding. His skull nuzzled your cheek, stopping to see your head plop back in place.

His soul panicked. Why weren’t you waking up? Were you falling down?

“**s t a r l i g h t** ? !” A knot formed in his nonexistent throat as he hugged you close. His body shook as he imagined your soul leaving your body.

He tried having his soul call out to yours to get a response, but nothing happened. You were as silent as the grave, a joke Sans never thought would make him want to cry. Magic flooded his eye sockets before pouring down his cheekbones. Blue droplets dripped onto you face as he sat with you in his arms among the mostly dead battle field. His sorrow quickly turned to anger as his magic flared, summoning blasters and thorn-bushes’ worth of spiked bones to surround the dead fray. Murderers didn’t deserve to have a grave. Blasters fired in all directions, scorching the sides of buildings while decimating the one of the last survivors and the dead into ash.

Sans squeezed you closer, erupting a cough to escape from you lips. His sockets widened at the action, hugging you closer to elicit another cough. A relieved smile overtook his gloomy expression, dissipating his magic all together as he watched your eyes barely open. You were still alive. Thank stars. Your eyes searched around until they found him before slowly closing again. He frowned, briefly shaking you to open your eyes once more, resulting in a wheezed groan leave your lips. You were still alive…

_paps_, his thoughts registered, i_ need to get to paps._

Sans immediately took a shortcut back to the mansion with you in tow, mindful of the sole survivor he was leaving behind. Last Sans saw, was the human half crawling away from the alley. Sans would deal with him later. He needed answers and held no reluctance in getting them by any means necessary.

____

Papyrus hummed in approval as he opened the cabinets to see them organized the way he and Black agreed upon with new groceries stacked behind the older goods. Having memorized the contents of the list; Papyrus could tell everything on the was bought and put away in its rightful place.

_Excellent_, he internally cheered.

His brother did extraordinarily well this time around. If Sans was napping in his room, he wouldn’t bother him. Today he earned the right to boondoggle after a busy day’s work. Papyrus leaned on the counter as he inspected the pasta maker with giddy fascination. He couldn’t wait make zucchini spaghetti for the house.

“paps!” his brother called out in a panic.

Papyrus looked toward one of the doorways leading to the kitchen. Had his brother had another night terror? He peeked out of the hallway, seeing the suited back of his brother.

“Over Here, Brother.” Papyrus called out with welcoming arms.

But when Sans turned around, Papyrus felt his soul drop at the sight of you. Blood covered your feathered locks and face while your (R/c) shirt was riddled with blood splotched holes. His expression hardened, expecting an immediate explanation from his brother. Sans’ eye lights quivered in panic as he held you close. Papyrus sighed; your injuries were far too serious to ignore over a petty conversation. He gently took your small stature from his brother, noticing his brother’s momentary unwillingness to let you go. A small groan escaped you as you weakly curled against his chest. Papyrus looked up from his battered human to scrutinize his brother.

“Kitchen Table.” He ordered.

Sans, uncaring to his bloodied dress suit and jacket, took a shortcut into the kitchen. Crashes followed by the sound of broken glass reached his skull. Walking back into the kitchen, he noted the table’s contents strewn in pieces all over the floor. He sent his brother a squinted glare before continuing into the kitchen to gently set you down on the table. He looked you over, lifting your shirt to see two bullet wounds; one in your side, just above your hip bone and another in your left upper arm. He noted the black drops oozing from the wounds, giving off a pungent smell of infection. Were you poisoned? He looked over your face, releasing a breath of relief when he only found a few deep cuts and a busted lip. The bruises dotting your body made it very apparent you fought for all your worth. The main question running through Papyrus’ skull was who would be so bold to attack you in their territory? He gently lowered his hands onto your face and legs. Green magic seeped from his palms onto the cuts and bruises, slowly closing them.

This city was supposed to be safe and secure enough for you to live separate from them. That was one of the main reasons they hadn’t forced you to live with them. First the apartment explosion and now this? Papyrus wasn’t sure what to think anymore. As much as he’d like to allow you freedom, it was clear the city was no longer safe for you. So far, you’ve been near every major catastrophe in the past two months alone.

His magic faltered as he looked over your wounds. Your injuries have worsened with each chaotic event. Papyrus feared the possibilities of what could come next. First there was the party where you fought a bunch of moronic buffoons, as Edge dubbed them. Then there was the apartment explosion. From what Red and Sans explained, you were emotionally distraught from the after witnessing a corpse-filled apartment. And now you’ve been attacked by a bunch of hooligans, for who knows what reason, with barely a quarter of your HP intact.

His internal rambling was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming shut. It wasn’t long until Red shuffled in the room.

“hey, why do I smell-” his words were quickly caught in his teeth as he looked down your broken form.

His eye lights flashed to Papyrus with a quizzical look of disbelief. When his face remained neutral, Red’s eye lights shrank into tiny pinpricks as he looked you over. His eyes slowly panned over until they found Sans standing next to you with blood covered clothes.

“**y o u**.” his eye lights extinguished before he appeared inches away from Sans, pushing him into the new cabinets they installed a month ago.

“what the hell happened?!” he demanded.

“i don’t know.” Sans answered honestly, “i found him like this.”

“bullshit.” Red gripped tighter on his short, “what, am i supposed to believe, he did it to himself after falling?” his eye lights extinguished before a threatening red eye light covered in erratic crimson flames, “**what**_ **happened**?”

“i don’t know, red.” Sans answered again, “that’s why i left one of those responsible _alive_ back at the alley I found (Y/N) in.”

“he’s telling the truth.” Stretch pointed out from his spot lounging on the window seat beside the kitchen table with his arms crossed and suit jacket draped over his shoulders. A lollipop stick poked from between his teeth as his eye lights traced over you.

“shouldn’t we be bringing him to a hospital?” he asked.

That prompted a response from you. Your eyes fluttered, trying in vain to stay open as you whispered a plea to not send you to the hospital, ending with fearful rambling that _they_ would find you. He shared a look with Stretch.

_Who were “they” and what did they want from you_?

____

Blue continued to drag his brother around the city for patrols, a habit he continued from the Underground. Recently, he felt a small spark seize his soul. The feeling disappeared as quickly as it arrived. His hand clenched at his dress shirt. Over the past few minutes, drops of anxiety had slowly coated his spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something serious had happened.

He walked the down a long street ling tangent to a cemetery. Blue didn’t pay attention to the fenced off land of the dead. He could never truly grasp why humans buried their dead. Sure, their physical bodies were left behind after their souls moved on but he never quite understood why they buried them in boxes. His questionings were interrupted by the sight of a woman walking the closed off grassland. Most humans visited their dead with flowers to lay at their grave, another tradition Blue barely understood.

But the woman didn’t lay a petalled plant anywhere. Instead, light gleamed at her feet as she stared elsewhere in deep concentration. Her lips moved at a fast paced as she voiced chants. Blue conjured a sharp spear made out of bone. From what he had experienced, no good came from a spell caster.

Three burly creatures clawed from the ground wearing bones as armor. Two were helmeted with wolf skulls while the last one wore a cow’s skull. He got ready to attack, only to stop mid-step when his rested a hand over his shoulder with news they had to return to the mansion on the double. When Blue looked back at the graveyard, the woman was gone, along with her summoned guards. The ivory spear disappeared from his grasp. She got away, for the time being. He’d make sure to mention this to the others. Turning back to his brother, he nodded in affirmation to shortcut back to the mansion.

What Blue didn’t expect was the smell of blood in his home. His brother had already used to a shortcut ahead of him to investigate. He walked into the kitchen to see you lying on the table covered in blood. His sockets narrowed.

“Who Did This?” he demanded, looking toward his taller doppelgangers for answers.

Classic was the first to answer his lack of knowledge pertaining to the situation, explaining how he found you, earning a hard glance from Red. Displeased with his answer, Blue blued his soul threateningly.

“Then Who Does?” Blue asked lowly, eye lights igniting to bright cyan flames.

Classic’s sockets narrowed as small wisps of a flames lit his left socket in response to Blue’s magic while Stretch watched them interact cautiously.

From the look of his taller counterpart being the only skeleton covered in blood, Blue easily assumed he was the only one on the scene. And yet, he held no information concerning your injuries, something Blue was unable to accept. Before he could continue interrogating Classic, he was startled out of the accusing atmosphere by Papyrus’ yelling.

“**QUIET**!” his voice was loud and demanding like Edge’s, missing the self-centered skeleton’s rasped tone.

Orange wisps cradled the sides of his skull as he looked over everyone darkly before calming down, extinguishing the flames alongside his sigh.

“Edge,” he called out, “Would You Please Grab The First Aid Kit From The Linens Cabinet Upstairs?”

Edge was gone in a flash, speeding up the stairs toward the second floor.

“Stretch, I Need Your Steady Hands To Pull The Bullets Out With Tweezers Once Edge Comes Back Down With What We Need.”

Stretch responded silently with a small nod.

Papyrus’ eye lights then flashed to the remaining three, “Brother, Take Red And Blue With You To Capture This Human And See What They Know.”

Blue nodded, grabbing onto Classic’s arm while Red placed a boney palm on his shoulder. Before he knew it, they were standing in a large alley with a basketball court. Blood and ash covered the entire court.

Red whistled lowly at the sight, crouching down to have a look at an extra crispy victim. Its meat had been burned to charcoal, leaving rocky looking skeleton made of thin soot. Red poked at the dried, molten corpse, only for it to crumble into ash under his touch.

“sheesh, classic, you sure did a number on this place. sure you left someone alive?” he asked, standing back up.

Blue ignored the coming conversation as he looked over the scene. Another collapsed pile of soot caught his eye. He looked it over, noting the black drag marks leading from the large alley toward a smaller alleyway. Blue had yet to explore this side of the city; so far only patrolling from his neighborhood toward the shopping centers. Over time, he would eventually expand his patrol far enough to cover the city’s diameter.

Blue followed the tracks with the two taller skeletons in tow until he found the crawling human desperately dragging himself back to civilization. His arm was broken, slowing his efforts to a snail’s pace. Blue walked ahead of him, stopping to stoop down to get a good look at him. Once the human caught sight of him, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

____

Edge came back downstairs with the large box of medical supplies Green stockpiled for them. Papyrus studied under him for a few years after Green and his brother merged into their Underground. He placed the box beside you on the table. Papyrus immediately got to work, opening the box to take out tweezers and a scalpel for the small operation. After sterilizing them over a flame he quickly handed them over in order for Stretch to begin.

The moment stretch made an incision to widen the wound for easier access to the bullet, your body writhed in pain, prompting Edge to hold your torso down in place. His lazy counterpart took his sweet time pulling out the bullet inch by inch. With each new tug, your struggles increased, nearly overpowering his own strength.

Instead of dismissing you as weak for arriving inches from death’s doorstep, Edge found himself concerned toward your well-being. He winced at the blood staining the table, seeping down to the floor underneath. He didn’t care if you won or not. Instead, he wanted nothing more than to tear into who dared to lay a finger on you- his pet. Yes, pet. Edge questioned his logic, wondering if he ate something that made him sick enough to oppose usual way of thinking completely.

Finally, Stretch managed to remove the _barbed_… bullet from your arm, prompting Papyrus to put as much healing magic over the blackened wound before adding a dabbing a sponge around the oozing hole.

Edge eyed the violet, sharp, thick piece of metal with distain. One thing was certain in that moment; mercy was definitely off the table. From the hardened look on his soft’s counterpart’s faces, he knew no opposition would be met.

**-|-**

____

Red watched the pitiful human beg for mercy. He preferred the Sackett prisoner to this wuss. It had been less than two hours since he and Blue began making headway in the interrogation. On any other day, Red would abstain from helping the sick runt torture someone. But, due to circumstances concerning you, he didn’t have much of a choice.

So far, the only bits of information they managed to get from Mister _West_, as he called himself, were facts concerning the amount of men you went against. Originally, there were three more men. Classic barely noticed during his _temper tantrum_ after seeing you in a terrible state.

Red couldn’t judge the skeleton fully for his actions. If it were him in Classic’s shoes, he wouldn’t have left any survivors to begin with, leaving the Serif family high and dry with unanswered questions until you were ready to talk about it. After witness how you coped with frightening situations before, Red already knew you’d never say a word explaining any happenings whatsoever.

The human added that the previous three were taken down by you. Red smirked at that. He knew you were tough, the footage he saw from the party spoke volumes toward your capabilities. He never expected you’d take on armed men, though. The man swore up and down to your brutality, even going as far to call you a demon. Red’s smirk grew into a wide smile. In hid Underground, many would consider that title a compliment.

It was only minutes earlier; Edge had come to check what information they managed to obtain from their new guest. _West_ refused to give away his loyalties, exclaiming any choice of torture they’d use on him would be nothing compared to what his boss would do to him. Red understood fully as he eyed the branding on the side of the man’s neck. He knew the emblem well. _Too_ well. It took decades for the tattoo to fade completely from his bones. The only question he couldn’t quite answer was how the hell you managed to piss _him_ off enough to want to kill you? Sure, he, himself, has killed for less, but it was rare to see his longtime friend retaliate like this.

Red sighed through his nasal cavity as exited the basement, his brother at his heels. Wanting a few seconds of peace, he took a shortcut to the hallway just outside of Papyrus’ bedroom. He leaned on his doorway, watching the tall skeleton rub a healing salve over your bruises before wrapping them in bandages. Because of his immense amount of healing magic, it was agreed, by unanimous vote, you stayed in Papyrus’ room until you were fully healed.

You had finally fainted from exhaustion after Stretched pulled out the last bullet. Though guns were a major commodity in the Underground, spiked bullets were not. Monsters didn’t need anything that was overkill. Simple bullets sufficed enough, getting the deed done quick. Death was easy while torture was an art done by hand.

Red sighed, sensing his brother down the hall. He retreated to his room while Edge followed closely. Red tensed at his brother’s silence, readying himself for a storm of scolding. Lying on his bed, he failed trying to look at ease as his brother sat at the desk opposite from his bed.

“I… understand why you haven’t told them.” His brother began quietly.

Red’s eye lights shrank to tiny pinpricks as watched brother cautiously, in disbelief. He hadn’t heard his brother speak at such a low volume since he was a small baby bones, barely the same height of his hip bone.

“You two were very close back then.” Edge’s eye lights looked to the side.

Sans looked away. He couldn’t fully feel shameful about the choices he made during his teen centuries. Looking after his brother while doing shady jobs for anyone willing to pay was his personal hell. He was rebellious with nothing to call his own. Aside from stealing a few extra clothes for his brother, his life was mundane. While looking for something more he got himself stuck in a gang he was too young to be ready for. Red blinked the memories away. He was just a stupid kid back then.

“Lines have been drawn today, brother. You must pick a side.” His brother pointed out, “Fix This Before It Becomes Even More Of A Mess.”

His brother began to left with a concerned eye light watching him over his shoulder. Red buried his head in one of the silk pillowcases as he let out an exasperated growl.

**-|-**

____

Black entered the mansion with Mutt close behind, tossing his keys onto one of the hooks lining the walls by the door leading to the garage. He got a text from Classic earlier about an emergency. Sadly, he was on a job the lazy asshole set upon him and his brother.

Guarding a rich idiot was beneath him. Yet, Classic still forces the jobs on him. It was only luck Black was stuck with the ingrate for three days or else he would have killed the bastard himself. Every day was a constant struggle to not blast away the human who constantly called him “monster” instead of his <strike>nick</strike>name. It was demeaning in itself. If another human calls him anything other than his title or name, he was going to impale them on the spot.

Mutt hurried past him into the kitchen. Curious, Black followed to find Edge mopping the kitchen floor with bleach. The chemically based liquid in the bucket close by had become a dark red. Black fumed. If that lazy asshole caused him to miss a raid on their house, he was personally going to dust him.

“How Many?” he asked through his teeth.

Edge continued mopping with a neutral expression, “None.”

Black blinked at his response.

_Then Why Are You Cleaning Up Blood, Spiked Banshee?_

Once Edge finished, he looked at the two with a look of contempt.

“(Y/N)” was his only response as he left to rinse out the bucket in one of the bathroom sinks.

Black’s mind raced as he followed the tall skeleton, trying to put Edge’s few words together. Watching the red liquid swirl down the drain as he poured out the bucket’s contents suddenly struck a chord in Black, causing him to feel nauseous. Before he could ask your whereabouts, Edge quickly stated you were in Papyrus’ room. Black turned to his brother with an order only to see him gone. He grumbled at the spot his brother was seconds ago. Of course, the one time he needed to use his brother’s lazy shortcuts, he isn’t there to oblige. Black sprinted up the stairs toward the second floor toward Papyrus’s bedroom. There he saw his younger brother bracing himself against the doorway as he watched the inside of the room with caution.

Black ducked under his brother’s arm to get a good look at what he was looking at, only to freeze at the sight. His spine straightened as his breath hitched. He had more than enough control to keep his actions in check. Denial and anger bubbled in his chest as his eye lights traced over the bandages covering you.

_How?_ His thoughts begged for an answer.

He was only gone for three days. How the hell did you manage to get yourself into so much trouble in just three days?! Seeing his internal struggle, Papyrus allowed him entry into his room while Mutt sat against the wall across from the doorway.

Black sat at the chair beside the race car bed. His phalanges shakily grazed over your bandages with a feathered touch. He would never admit it verbally, but he envied his brother’s soft doppelganger. He was an admiral fighter _and_ a strong healer, something Black was not. Healing magic was very scarce in his Underground. He could protect his family with his life, but when it came down to injuries, it was a race to find the nearest black market that sold monster candy. Because of this, he, his brother, and Chara each had deep scars that could have been fixed by simple healing magic scattered throughout their bodies as a reminder to each battle they fought through. His hand absentmindedly traced over his scarred socket then lowered to grasp your bandaged hand. If he had one wish, he wouldn’t ask to make you only his back in his dimension. Instead, he’d ask for healing magic so he could both protect and heal you like a protecting soulmate should. He sighed. But… beggars couldn’t be choosers. In place of healing magic, he was a fearful mob boss, the Blackened Ace of the Underground, that held authority over his territory with sharp attacks and an iron fist.

He sat with you for a few more minutes before heading back downstairs for answers. He wanted to know if the bastards who did this to you were still alive. If not, he’d make it so; both slowly and painfully. Merciful deaths were for the weak souled. He had no qualms tying up a few humans and torturing them to death. After all, rules had to be kept.

____

Rus watched you slumber as your chest gently lifted and fell. He was thankful Papyrus kept his door open to allow him to keep an eye on you and allowing his brother to enter for a short time. Most monsters, especially boss monsters, viewed their rooms as a private domain. None could enter without their direct approval; a norm monsters from all dimensions could agree on.

Unlike his brother, who ran downstairs to demand answers, Rus asked Papyrus for information concerning your injuries. His thoughts were still able to piece together the bits of facts thrown his way. From how Papyrus described the human currently held in the basement, Rus could easily deduce he was a lackey. He pondered in curiosity. A few questions arose in skull: Who did you upset enough to try a bold move to enter their city and try to kill you? What was their beef with you? The questions started and ended with you just as the answers would depend on your answers.

Rus leaned back as his eyes traced over your injuries. Even with what you are, you still managed to get hurt. His teeth dipped into a frown at that. You seemed so capable during your skirmish with him; able to continue fighting without falter after being thrown at high speeds onto opposite walls of his brother’s studio. He needed to look into more information concerning the men who attacked you.

A loud cacophony of complaints filled the mansion. Rus got up and sauntered down the hallway to see what was going on. In seconds he got his answer as his brother passed by him covered in gore while Blue, whose bones were lightly splattered with small chunks, stomped steps behind. Black turned down a hallway with an audible slam following seconds later. Yells and pounding on a door soon ensued. Rus ignored the loud argument thrown from one side of the door to the other, knowing full well the reason behind the screaming skeletons. His brother killed another prisoner.

Rus sighed. At least his belongings were still intact. He paused, getting a whiff of burnt smell off of the two arguing skeletons and took a shortcut to the basement to find a fire being put out by Stretch. Rus clicked his teeth as he slipped a few half-burnt cards from the burn pants. As luck would have it, he managed to salvage a singed driver’s license from the crispy lower half of the prisoner.

Rus shook his head at the well-done corpse. His brother really needed to learn restraint.

**-|-**

____

It was a quarter past one and the mansion was silent. The arguing between the two pipsqueaks finally ceased for the night an hour ago. As luck would have it, hi brother had long been asleep from the chaotic day. Exiting his room, Red used shortcuts to creep around the house and grab what he needed before heading down to the basement.

Once everything was all set, he wheeled his black and red Harley Davidson hog from the garage to the front door. He input his code into the alarm system and exited the mansion. With a package tied to the back of his hog, he started her up and drove off into the waning night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew~! Finally posted this chapter. It took me a little over two weeks, but I finally did it ladies and gents. I have finally brought you to the skeleton's mansion!  
Next chap has the first reveal! Wooh!  
If you haven't noticed yet, this was a filler chapter to get to the good stuff. Gosh, I can't wait to write the other skeletons in.*yells from a mountain* Finally!!! Four more will take the stage next chap. Not tellin' who (gotta keep some spoilers).  
Also, concerning the chapter, don't worry I fixed all the wrongdoings scattered all over. Typing late at night, half awake, without fully editing results in _ what this chap previously was _. But don't worry, it's all fixed now.  
Feel free to comment. It's absolutely possible after spending an extra day editing I've still missed many things. My knowledge in literature only stretches so far.  
I also look forward to reading your theories in the comments below. Most of you are on your way to becoming true Tins. *wink*  
Have an awesome nice day/night/evening/morning everyone~!  
P.S. I have a Tumblr now: [Check It Out!](https://vitnebbs.tumblr.com)  
Feel free to make fan art. I adore what I've seen this far~!


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